Promise
by LoaDyron
Summary: 'It's a promise. We will meet again.' The promise made them inseparable, but the future may soon threaten Ezreal and Taric's bond. Facing two adversaries that seek to change Runeterra by any means necessary, will they be able to see each other once again?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter I**

Sunlight burst through the open window, illuminating Taric´s bedchamber. The blue drapes frame accentuated the trim of the carvings on the canopy bed, contrasting with the white petricite walls. Small flasks with essential oils, herbs and wooden soap boxes sat on the shelf near his bed. Sweet and sharp fragrances floated in the air, in a mixture that could allure any mortal.

Feeling the warm water trickling on his robust body, the Knight's brown eyes admired the chandelier above his head. He gazed at the delicacy of the well-crafted wave shapes, like a beautiful piece of art. As he lathered his arms, the smell of coconut filled the bath. Someone knocked on the door.

'Come in.' Taric washed the bubbles away.

'Excuse me, Sir.' A lad with a ponytail, dressed in doublet came inside. He carried the Knight's silver steel armour, blue cape, shield and a hammer in a wooden cart. 'You are late for your training.' He carefully placed the equipment nearby.

Taric's eyes stared at his armour, his mind wandered off to a tall marble building. He recalled statues of soldiers, holding their shields defensively, lined up outside the gates. Inside, a large square where a white banner with golden borders showed a symbol of a horse's head with wings, rising on the top of the building.

Two groups of soldiers on opposite sides, carrying shields with spears, swords, hammers, maces and battleaxes, gazed upon one another. A tall, muscular bald-headed man walked among the recruits. As he roughly barked out 'Middle Guard!' his authoritative voice echoed through the yard.

'Hurrah!' all the soldiers tilted forward their shields.

'Charge!'

'Demaciaaa!'

The groups charged furiously, holding their shields firmly while raising their weapons. The place became like a battlefield. Rushing forward, pikes thrusted on armour. Whirling with precision, the blades clashed angrily. Swinging around, maces collided against battle-axes savagely. Hitting mercilessly, hammers bashed on shields with vigour.

'This shall never happen again!' A man with heavy white armour said, with harshness in his voice. 'This is your duty to the kingdom. Our family has held this honour for generations.'

A knot of men was striking each others' shields. Their swords clashed on armour as they searched for weaknesses.

'Doesn't the training start after lunch?' Taric looked at his father.

He stared at him sternly. 'Don't you dare avoid your responsibility,' as if the Knight had said something sacrilegious. 'Your training starts now!'

Taric wanted to protest but decided to keep his mouth shut.

His father laid his hands on the knight's shoulders. 'Now pay attention.' He pointed to the crowd of recruits fighting. 'As a family member, you have to serve. This is your only purpose. So, justice must prevail above everything else.'

Taric had heard this before when he was a little boy. He used to listen to his father talking about a great song immortalising the Demacia's history forever, but in the end, they were still only mere words.

His father smiled at him. 'One day, you will represent our country and king with pride,' holding Taric's face. 'You will be the greatest hero of Demacia. Never forget that.'

Despite all the aggression on their faces, the sweat rolling down their skin, their heavy hot breaths, the strain their muscles were being put through the training, the recruits' movements were smooth and gentle like the wind.

All their determination to perfect their combat skills was worthy of admiration. Yet, the knight's eyes tracked a shadowy figure approaching a tree. Flying with vanity with its blueish black wings, a butterfly perched upon on a leaf. What a beautiful creature! Taric smiled with relish.

'Sir?' the lad's voice brought the Knight back to his bedchamber. 'Sir?'

'Sorry, sorry.' Taric laughed. 'My mind was distracted.' Getting up from the bathtub, he grabbed a towel drying his body.

'Don't get me wrong, sir, I don't mean to be impudent.' The squire held his leather clothes. 'But your father specifically told me to remind you, your training starts early morning.'

'You are not being impudent, young man.' Taric raised his arms. 'The day is just starting. No need to rush. After all, my training doesn't require me to stay in the yard.'

'It's none of my business but what kind of training? If you don't mind me asking,' The squire helped the Knight put on his shirt.

'Getting prepared to become a protector of course,' Taric replied, as he buttoned up his topcoat and pants.

'But without your weapons and physical exercise,' the squire struggled to put on the Knight's chainmail 'how are you supposed to become one?'

'Hmhm…' Taric chuckled. 'It is true that fighting skills are essential for defending those who need most of our aid. However, there are other styles of training that people barely pay attention to.'

Trying his best to hold the breastplate, the squire found it quite difficult to lay it correctly against Taric's chest. Admiring his effort, the Knight pushed up the lad's large hands in a friendly way. With his chest covered, the squire took the blue cap. Adjusting it, the lad covered the Knight's shoulders with his pauldrons.

'Sir, forgive me for being so blunt.' The squire dressed the Knight with his vambraces and gauntlets. 'Whatever your preparation consists of, it doesn't seem to be very helpful.'

_They convinced him that my methods are useless._'That's what they want you to believe,' Taric winked. 'I never felt so focused before. And my weapon skills are efficient! To prove that—'

'Sir, there's no doubt, you are doing what is in your best interest,' the squire gave Taric a sign to raise a leg to wore the Knight's greaves. 'But, if you keep your situation like this, you will never be the protector you desire.'

'Your concern for my reputation is really appreciated,' Taric watched the squire put on his greaves. 'Yet, you can rest assured the situation is under control.'

'Your helmet, sir,' the squire stood his hands.

'No need today. Thank you,' Taric walked to his desk. Approaching the window, the Knight grabbed a comb.

At the centre of the table, a feather was resting in an ink holder. At the top, books of history, art, literature and philosophy piled on top of one another. In the middle of the secretary, there were open books of romance and poems. Papers and sealed letters were organised inside the shelves on both sides. A bell was laid closer to the candle near the window.

'Are you sure? Because—' the squire laid his helmet on the bed.

Taric pushed his hair back smoothly. 'It's alright.' While combing it, as he walked to a large ornamented mirror of leaves in whirling shapes.

Smiling at his own image, Taric admired his armour shining radiantly. His cape floated as he turned, watching closely his hair being combed. Winking to the mirror, he held his chin, turning his face to check his teeth. _Perfect_. Satisfied, he laid the comb back on the desk.

The squire shook his head. 'Your father—' watching the Knight approaching the shelf near the bed. Grabbing a flask with a yellowish liquid, Taric rubbed some on his fingers gently, pressing on his neck, and back.

'He desires to speak with me again. Doesn't he?'

'Yes. Right now, sir.'

'Very well,' said Taric as the squire placed the hammer in his leather scabbard. 'Would you please be so kind as to tell him I will be down soon?' The young man finished adjusting the shield on the Knight's back.

The squire opened the door. 'Of course, sir,' leaving the Knight's bedroom.

Leaving his room, Taric walked downstairs. He looked at the dining room that was illuminated by the brightness coming from the window. On the wall, a white banner with golden lines around the cloth was suspended. At the centre, there was illustrated a symbol of a shield, where two swords with wings crossed. Closer to the window, cups and jars were on a wooden buffet table. Inside the drawers, spoons and knives with other catering utensils were arranged.

As Taric reached the end of the stairs, there was a painting above the fireplace. A woman wearing white light armour gently held a baby. At her side, a soldier in bulky white armour proudly laid his hands on her shoulder. _Father talks very highly of you. I wish you could still be here._

As the squire approached the large table in the middle of the room, where an Elite Knight sat writing. The strong smell of coffee came from the man's mug, occupying the room as a guest. Aside, there were books with papers serving as bookmarks and a letter closer to the Elite Knight's helm.

'He is here.' The squire stepped closer to the man.

Rolling up a scroll, he said, 'Give this to the king.' The Elite Knight sealed it, giving it to the lad.

'Right away, sir.' Nodding, the squire walked to the main door.

Taric smiled gently. 'Good morning, father.'

As the door shut, the Elite Knight turned his face. His small dark eyes contrasted with the heavy shadows on his face, wrinkles denoting his lack of sleep. His father didn't open his sharp lips, as if waiting for the right moment to speak.

'By Targon's Peak! You look tired.' Taric ran to his father. 'The mission of the mages is exhausting you. Today, you have to rest.'

A massive deep scar crossed Taric's father left eye, twisting his face. Half of the Elite Knight's lip had no flesh, looking like a wild beast had eaten it. The injury ended on the throat, as the skin had been sewed.

'It's admirable, your concern for me, son,' Taric's father laid a feather in an ink, 'But as a Demacian, this is my duty and responsibility.' The Elite Knight looked at his son. 'And speaking of it— sit, we have to talk about this,' pointing to a chair.

'Very well. As you wish, father.' Taric sat.

The Elite Knight rubbed his face. Moving his hands up to hold the long grey hair, Taric's father mechanically took the letter from the table. 'Please read this,' he said, giving it to the Knight.

Taric recognised the sigil in the wax seal, a sword with wings, as the royal Lightshield family's, that had been ruling the country for three generations.

The Knight knew what was inside. This situation had repeated itself for so long. His father is prepared to give the same sermon the Knight was used to hearing. 'Greetings from The King of Demacia, Jarvan III, to my dearest friend and Elite Knight of Cavalry, Ser Daniel.' Taric glanced at his father.

'Continue please.' The Elite Knight waved to his son to read.

'Although you have served our country, and my family with great honour for many years, it is with great disappointment this letter reaches to you. Your son, Taric, being the commander responsible for the heavy cavalry, didn't arrive at the regimental meeting on the second of Decméria.' Taric paused to look at his father.

The Elite Knight's hands slid down on his skin. Feeling the soft grey beard, Taric's father gripped it hard. He took an exhausted deep breath, shaking his head; seeming as if he had no available solution at hand to settle the situation. However, the Knight knew that his father would never give up. He always admired his strong discipline. Taric knew his father soon would attempt to find a way to control, to put order to the issue at hand.

'Your son is a formidably gifted man. The last thing we need is another Demacian wasting his natural talent on something worthless,_' Not this again_. 'We have been aware of his absence. Because of that, to restore his honour, he must come today. The Lightshields are counting on your family to do what is just and right. As your kind and ruler of Demacia, I will expect results. However, if your son doesn't collaborate, do not hesitate to contact me in private. Best regards, Jarvan III Lightshield.' After reading, Taric laid the letter on the table.

'Do you understand what you must do?' the Elite Knight asked, picking up the letter to seal it back.

Taric leaned forward to the Elite Knight. 'Father, you are looking for a problem that doesn't exist.' He smiled. 'We discussed this many times before, why do you keep insisting?'

'Why? Because clearly your king is angered at your attitude.' Ser Daniel said, narrowing his eyes annoyed. 'And yes, there is a problem. Have you read the letter with proper attention?'

'It will be strange if not.' Taric grabbed the letter like it was a beautiful parchment for a poem. 'The content was explicit, which leads me to think you worry too much when it isn't necessary.'

'Not necessary?' Ser Daniel's lips twisted hard as his voice became severely aggravated. 'Do you expect me to stay still while others question your honour-nay, the Family's honour?'

Taric pushed his chair, getting closer. 'Father, listen to me—'

'No! Listen to me this instant, son,' the Elite Knight turned annoyed. 'This is your career. Your future! All these years, you have worked so hard to be where you are. Do not disappoint your king.'

'And what does the king have to be discontented about?' Taric asked, moving his fingers on his knee like he was a nobleman. 'He knows my well-versed skills in battle.'

'Even so… this is your duty,' the Elite Knight said, in a morose tone. 'Many families wish their children had your talent. And because they lack it, they spend years training exhaustively never knowing if they will have the privilege to fight in the name of the king and Demacia.'

Taric rubbed his father's hands with affection. 'And that's why you worry too much about me.'

'It wouldn't be necessary if you do as your king commands.' Ser Daniel signed explosively, his anger reaching a breaking point.

'Your problem, father, is that you let others unnecessary deceive you.' Taric held his father shoulders, smiling radiantly. 'And you know better than anyone else of this kingdom.' The Knight kissed his father forehead. 'I love you.'

'Truly… son?' Ser Daniel said, as if the Knight's words were a broken promise. 'If you love your father from your heart, then take your duty seriously and go to your training this morning.'

_We will not get anything from this_. 'But you know your son is training.' Taric noted. 'And let me tell you it's having fantastic results. To prove that—'

In that instant, the Elite Knight's hand reached his face, continually rubbing as a way to wash the shame away. 'Protector help me please,' Taric's father murmured impatiently. 'Son, you are a commander. Your crew is one of the best. The king was generous enough to grant you one of the most prestigious positions in the kingdom.'

'You are hoping for me to be proud,' Taric said assertively.

'You must be,' Taric's father said, with a straight face. 'The king, your superiors, and your best friend recognise your gift.' The Elite Knight smiled. 'Watching my son fighting bravely for our kingdom makes me proud.' He looked at the picture. 'She would be proud.'

'Mother is already pleased—' Taric looked at the picture.

'Not until her son fulfils his responsibilities.' The Elite Knight grabbed the letter. 'Do what you must. Go to the training today with your comrades.'

Taric smiled. 'Everything is fine,' he said, grabbing the envelope. 'For now, all this seems to be a great problem, but rest assured tomorrow you will see that was nothing after all.'

The Elite Knight's tired eyes glowered at Taric's gentle ones. 'Don't make me repeat this again!' his voice raised. 'Go to your training now!'

Taric felt authority in his father's voice. Although, the Knight wasn't intimidated by his father order, rather he respected him for what he believed. But that didn't mean Taric will do as his father said, on the contrary, the Knight was determined to follow his own ideologies.

Everyone, including his father, was wrong about him. Why can't they see he didn't need all this? The king knew his skills with weapons were formidable. The Demacia's code of honour was ingrained in his mind. Taric had knowledge of his duties and responsibilities of his position in the kingdom. So then, why would he need to keep training? Taric was not concerned, after all, he was a brilliant man that didn't require such a fuss with all this organised schedule. And he had finally realised his true propose as a Knight, since his king, and his superiors had blinded him from so many years.

Sir Daniel looked at him with fierce eyes; waiting for his son to say something in return. Taric said, 'my dear father,' patting and rubbing the Elite Knight's hands tenderly, as a gentle smile escapes on his face. 'All this means nothing. Go rest. You won't be needed for today. Your men will need their commander tomorrow.'

'Did you hear what your father said?' Ser Daniel responded back in fury like a mad beast unleashed.

'Crystal clear.' Taric nodded with serenity, holding his father hands.

Sir Daniel stood up fast, pointing to the door. 'You will do as it was instructed, and follow your king commands.' He said sternly.

Taric kissed his father forehead. 'Yes, my dear father.' He held Sir Daniel's face with care.

Although Taric's gestures were gentle enough to shake any heart, his father wasn't very keen on his affection. The Knight could see Sir Daniel's eyes burning with fury and discontent. Lowing his head with respect, Taric turned walking to the main door_. One day you will understand me. You will see father, that they were wrong._

As Taric was about to open the door. 'I promise,' the Knight turned. His father was holding his hand on the table, as if he was holding all his frustration. 'To the Protector and to your mother that you will do your duty as a true Demacian.'

'Promising to two women it's always dangerous, specially Demacian.' Taric said, holding the open door. 'Fragile as a delicate flower but tough like steel, ready to crush men's heart. No wonder Demacian men are so masochist.' Sir Daniel looked at his son in disbelieve, as if the Knight was trying to make him look like a fool. As he was about to speak, Taric smiled. 'See you later.' Waving to his father, who's shoulders sagged in defeat.

_There's nothing that will change his mind. He can't see that all this is useless to me?_ Sounds of men and women came from the tall white building. While some searched diligently for the weaknesses in their opponents using their weapons, the majority of them were already breathing heavily due to their intensive training. Between the groups, the muscular, bearded General with his hands behind his back as he checked the soldiers.

Taric remembered a scene from his adolescence in the training yard. Grabbing a spear, the General gazed at them. 'Present Arms!' he shouted to the group of recruits grasping their weapons. 'I am your enemy. Face me!'

Taric admired the power and authority in the General's voice. His recruits were so disciplined that each of them trembled in fear. Their minds could do nothing but to command their hands to hold their weapons. Each young knight, grabbing a little of their courage, lined up.

A young man rushed at the general, raising his mace, hoping to land a blow upon the bearded Knight. However, despite his bravery, the general pierced on his armour. The young knight rolled over on the ground. The next recruiter sprinted like the wind at the General, holding his shield and sword. Although he successfully struck on the General's spear shaft, his defence was like a child trying his hardest to impress. He paid the price. And so many tried their best to defeat the General until only Taric was left.

The yard became utterly silent. The wind whistled through the grass and trees as Taric's eyes focused on the General. Holding his shield and sword firmly, the Knight waited for the General to make a move. Every soldier murmured between themselves, like a crowd in a coliseum. And so, they waited… expecting to see the battle.

The General laughed. 'What's the matter? Aren't you capable of fighting?'

_He is taunting me. _Taric kept concentrated as the man remained in his place.

'Such cowardliness for a Demacian!' the bearded General grinned. 'Afraid to dirty your pretty hands? Huh?'

Raising his sword closer to his shield in front of him, Taric sprinted towards the General. The other recruits joined together. Taric could hear them; they were whispering between themselves. 'Why doesn't he scream for Demacia?', 'Is he shy?', 'Why not for the King?', 'Is he ashamed to be a Demacian?'

Closer to him, the general stabbed his spear against the Knight's legs; however, Taric swiftly defended himself with his shield. He pushed the General's spear aside with his shield, as the young Knight moved his sword in circles. The General raised his spear to hit Taric's face, but his sword hit the General's helmet. The General parried with his spear, as the Knight's sword kept clashing on the spear.

The Knight didn´t stop. Moving around, parrying and dodging from each other's attacks, Taric did another whirling movement with his sword; as the General swung his weapon, making it fly. Taric saw the General big grin on his face. As his general began to strike at the Knight, Taric moved, backing slightly each time, protecting himself from the attacks. Looking around, he saw a hammer and grabbed it.

Thus, restarted the motion between them. After a long while of dodging, parring and moving around to spot a weakness, Taric moved his hammer, hitting hard on his General's spear. As he tried to defend himself, the weapon fell from his hand, rolling over on the ground.

The General smiled. 'Well done, Demacian.' However, he quickly grabbed his shield, hitting on Taric's stomach. 'And this happens if a Noxian notice your lack of concentration.'

'Next time, this will not happen, sir.' Taric nodded, accepting his lesson.

'Now that's the attitude.' The General patted Taric's shoulder. 'You proved yourself to me. You are capable of fighting. However, keep training.' The General smiled, satisfied. 'I know who you are. Your family is renowned in battle, and that's expected of them. Make Demacia and the king proud, son.'

That memory brought a frown to Taric's face as his father left with a sigh. The Knight walked through an arched passageway, where the children were chasing a cat on the streets. Taric admired the simple elegance of the house's structures and designs. Sprawling, symmetrical, stucco facades caught the eye with white petricite walls. Arched windows and doorways contrasted greatly with a strong fragrance coming from the flowers, forming beautiful gardens in the vast courtyards and masonry. Getting closer to the market place, the Knight reached a tavern of the name The King's Head.

Opening the door, a joyful rhythm came from a bard's lute playing in harmony with flutes, tambourines and tabors. Delighted with the ambience inside, Taric bobbed his head.

A fireplace in the middle invited the guests to feel at home. Pictures of landscapes and farms were exhibited on the walls. A scent of vegetables and potatoes cooked in an oven came from a tray as a waitress passed by. At the tables, soldiers, and merchants were enjoying their time with card games with bets, and chess boards. Closer to the musicians, a group of folks drank cheerfully upon their mugs, in unison with the music.

'Good morning!' cheerfully smiled a young redhead lady holding a tray with mugs. 'Welcome back.

Taric smiled graciously. 'Good morning, what a lovely day, darling!' looking to the bard, 'I see your artists have new companions,' he said, loudly.

The redheaded waitress nodded. 'They came yesterday,' she said, as waitresses passed through serving customers. 'Shame you weren't here. The boss liked their music.'

At a table closer at the entrance of the tavern, a group of adventurers and workers were sitting eating their breakfast. One of them, looking at the main door stood up.

'Lads! Sir Taric is here!' An old man cried out, with a joyful smile on his face, glad to see the Knight inside.

The rest of the people in the place looked at Taric's direction. 'Ask him to join us.' One of the men said, waving to the table.

Taric looked at the table that was crying his name. The old man moved his right leg slowly as if he was trying to not step on a bear trap that laid upon the ground, while he was grabbing the edges of the table. The Knight noticed the old man trying his best to not shake, as Taric knew the old man's left leg was amputated at the knee.

As the old man reached to the corner of the table, his fingers shook desperately as he tried to walk to the table. _He will fall again!_ Immediately, Taric passed by a couple of waitresses, serving tables to reach the old man.

The old man stepped carefully as a waitress gave him space, but that wasn't enough to greet the Knight. As the old man took a step, he slipped and began to fall towards the ground. With no waste, Taric grabbed the old man in his arms.

'Careful.' Taric chuckled gently, grabbing the old man's waist with care. 'What were you trying to do, my friend? Did you compete at dawn for a marathon?'

'Those bones back in my days used to run like an athlete. A trouble maker I was.' The old man said, warmed by the Knight's kind words. 'But right now? The only thing to do is walk as much as my legs can.'

Taric smiled. 'You have to tell me one of your adventures. Your troubles sound a great joy.'

'Oh lad. This old man has plenty of stories to tell you, all day.' The old man said.

'However, next time ask for my help.' Taric in a gentle tone. 'These bones are not young anymore.'

'Ah lad, let me walk as much as these old bones want.' The old man said, warmed by the Knight's kind words. 'Let us enjoy your company, leave my leg to The Veiled Lady.'

Grabbing the old man's hand under his shoulder, Taric walked with the man towards the table. As they approached it, the Knight was greeted with great warmth by everyone. Even people from other tables got closer to see the Knight.

The soldiers, on the other hand, weren't enjoying the attention given to the Knight. They glared sharply at Taric, like they were witnessing treason against the king.

All of a sudden, a small creature with fur and big ears, began playing the flute, clapping his little feet. At the same time, tabors and more pipes played along. Everyone inside lifted their mugs joyfully.

'Your friend wasn't here today.' The redheaded waitress approached the table in the middle of the confusion.

'He hasn't been here at all?' Taric asked, as another waitress stopped at the table to serve a young man that raised his hand. Immediately he blushed as the waitress greeted him flirtatiously.

'No hon,' the waitress pushed aside some children trying to grab her skirt. 'The usual?'

'Please.' Taric nodded.

She winked. 'Straight away.'

The redheaded waitress ran to a table to wait for Taric's food. Siting among the people, Taric was delighted by their attention. He knew the people inside out; their dreams, desires, problems, fears and paths they wanted for the future. The Knight felt a great happiness inside of his heart as he started to talk with them, laughing at their jokes, feasting with his people, and giving advice where it was needed. _The last time in the forest, it was a stunning discovery! If today's weather plays at my favour, it may reveal me more than just a species!_

'Here it is!' The redheaded waitress came with a tray.

Taric knew this fresh aromatic aroma. The food that was arranged in his plate matched his taste. Toasted white bread was cut in half. In one part, there were two sliced grilled tomatoes, accompanied with slices of mushrooms. Atop two fried eggs with black pepper, salt and, little of coriander. Next to the other half of the toasted bread, there was half of an avocado, delicately sliced.

The waitress smiled. "For our favourite customer," she said, laying a tankard of hot tea on the table.

As the waitress left, Taric held the tankard closer to his nose, sniffing his drink. An enjoyable sensation reached his nostrils, by the soft, rich aroma of his tea. Puckering up as if about to give a kiss, he sipped the liquor. Slurping as the tea was moving around in his mouth, he breathed out through his nose. The liquid coated his tongue and throat.

At first, a sharp taste of mint sliced down his tongue. The second time, drinking slowly, a different smoky flavour of earthy reminded of oak. Without haste, he took another sip. A mix of different fruity flavours, cherry and strawberry, spread inside, although he could also feel cinnamon.

After this, Taric grabbed his sandwich. Biting it, the flavour of the fresh egg melted on his mouth, along with fresh mushrooms and tomatoes. Grabbing a slice of avocado, he stirred in the yolk on the plate, mixing it with the black pepper. The spicy, salty mixture touched his senses. He smiled, satisfied.

Of a sudden, a group of farmers enjoying their mugs with coffee, got together. 'Did you hear?' a lad with a straw hat asked, laying a spoon on the table.

'About the rare squirrels in the region?' another with an axe leaned against the table raised his mug to drink.

'Aye,' the lad of straw hat nodded. 'The animal can fly it seems. And the hunters are in search for—'

_No!_ Taric got up in a flash from his chair. Those who weren't at the table, looked at him startled. The rest were too entertained to pay attention to the Knight. The old man looked at him, then he tried to walk at the same pace as the Taric, however the Knight was in a rush. Riding his horse Taric rode out of the city to investigate the squirrel's hunt. _As the champion of life, I must stop this!_

Riding through the vast vegetation, the tall, ancient trees were aglow with sun's radiance. It was a place where wildflowers grew, with a soft pear and grape scent, fresh and sweet as if a perfume had been spread, capable of making a gardener jealous.

Turning off onto a separate path, something suddenly fell on the grass. The horse, agitated, raised its front hooves. 'Easy,' Taric patted animal's face gently. 'No need to be afraid.'

Responding to his kindness, the animal obeyed him. From the corner of his eye, Taric saw something climbing down from a tree. It was a small monkey-like creature jumping down to grab a fruit. As Taric rode in the dense vegetation, suddenly, a loud metallic sound echoed nearby.

'Step by step, slowly,' Taric whispered to the horse.

_I hope the creature isn't in danger!_ The Knight looked around. As the horse trotted on the grass; a little agitated, a squeal from an animal echoed through the glade. Taric scanned the ground, hoping to find the creature. Getting closer to the tiny voice, he finally saw it.

It was a squirrel, stuck in a trap. Its small fingers were covered in blood, and the creature licked them in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. Dismounting, Taric opened the trap gently. The animal tried to fly to the tree; however, he fell on the Knight's hands.

'Careful.' Taric observed the squirrel looking to the tree. 'You aren't in the best condition to climb, little one.'

The animal's beady little eyes stared at the Knight in protest. Stubborn like a spoiled child, the animal cocked his back, ready for a second attempt. He jumped forward yet again; his sharp nails slid down the tree.

'Don't be scared.' Taric caught the animal. 'It's true you are not with an Illuminator's priest, but let me help you with what I can.'

Taric laid down his shield and hammer. Resting on the grass, his fingers touched the delicacy of the crystal shape creamy flowers.

Taking off his cape, Taric cradled the squirrel on his chest, like it was his own child. Searching through inside of his belt bag for bandages, the Knight grabbed leaves nearby. Holding the animal's tiny hands gently, Taric wrapped them with bandages.

'There.' The Knight petted it with tenderness. 'I will bring you later to the temple. They know what to do.'

Taric's eyes shined to see such a rare, beautiful creature. The animal's large ears twitched, climbing blissfully over the knight's shoulders. _Oh, so cute!_ The Knight touched its soft reddish fur. Scurrying down to his legs, the animal closed its eyes, moving its tail to cover itself like a blanket.

As the animal went to sleep asleep, the Knight noticed some movement in nearby bushes. _Don't tell me it's the hunters? _Taric stared to the bushes covering the wounded animal.

Soft steps could be heard on the grass. Nearing, with no apparent concern of being noticed, the shadow suddenly shouted. 'Hey.'

'Hail!' Taric kept his eyes on the shadow. 'Are you a hunter? Or one of my recruits?'

The shadow finally revealed itself. 'Neither,' a young man pulled off his goggles. 'Do you know where the cave is, with a map?'

'Cave with a map?' Taric asked, bewildered.

'The one rumoured to have—' the young man began, yawning tiredly. The stranger covered his mouth. His hands rubbed on his half-opened eyes like something was twitching inside.

_He is exhausted._ Taric looked concerned. 'Please come, friend,' pointing to a tree next to his. 'You must have travelled from far to come here. Sit. Have a rest.'

'Why not?' the man shrugged.

The stranger sat on the soft grass. As birds flew overhead singing, he closed his eyes resting his body. 'Not a big fan of the forest to be honest.' The stranger put his hands behind his head. 'But not a bad place to laze around.'

'You can't deny this brings you comfort,' the Knight said, covering the squirrel with his cape.

'After a long day of research, sure.' The stranger took a deep breath. 'However, the noise of the machines, the pressure of the day, all these things remind me of home.'

'Where are you from?' Taric moved closer to the stranger.

'Not Demacia, that's for sure.' The young man winked. 'Though… are you truly a Demacian?'

Observing the stranger, Taric noticed a lot of ocean-like fur encircling his neck from the lapel of his short leather coat. _Where did he get that?_ 'Body and soul,' the Knight pushed his hair back with vanity. 'Why are you asking?'

'You two.' The stranger pointed to Taric and the sleepy squirrel. 'Demacians by nature don't pay attention to that stuff.' His hands rested on his chest. 'I'm from the healthiest country of Runeterra. Not to mention our technology is the best.'

'Oh! You mean Piltover!'

'That's the place.'

Taric's eyes wondered at the stranger's untamed blond hair. Those strange glasses seemed not to fit right, too tight. Why does it have to be stuck so tightly on his head? Isn't that uncomfortable? 'Some Piltover citizens are living here. However, my changes to visit your country have been non-existent.' Taric approached the man.

'Eh, not surprised. We are everywhere.' but the stranger moved aside. 'Not to mention you are missing a lot. Piltover had a lot to visit. You will get lost to be honest.'

As Taric drew closer, he could see upside down triangles shine for just a moment in the stranger's upper cheeks lungs, then disappear. _That just now! Could be?_ Taric observed thoughtfully. 'Now I am intrigued. You have to tell me more— my apologies! Where are my manners?' The Knight stuck out his hand. 'Please call me Taric.'

The young man looked at his hand. He smiled. 'My name's Jarro.' He shook Taric's hand, nonchalant. 'Jarro Lightfeather. Nice to meet you.'

Taric's eyebrows raised at Jarro. The young man was well-known in Demacia for the discovery of a treasure in the country, which until those days had remained an enigma. It involved the death of a famous actress who performed with a mask of a lamb. According to the tale, the actress died at the end of the play performing as a maiden.

Many looked for answers from him. How she died? What the cause of death was? What did the theatre company confide in him? Yet Jarro simply answered: 'Even for myself, it's a mystery.'

Since Jarro's name had been spread, the Knight was curious to meet him one day in person, he never thought it would be under these circumstances.

Yet Jarro name sounded odd as he presented himself. Not because it was a strange name, but mainly because the young man was lying. If it was the case, he had been using this name for so long, and many including Taric had believed in him all this time. Taric found it queer but decided to keep the appearances.

'Likewise.' Taric shook Jarro's hand friendly. _Better keep in mind he will constantly lie._ 'You mentioned a cave with a map.' Taric looked at Jarro's right hand.

_What a magnificent gem!_ His, eyes hypnotised, stared at the large oval sapphires, covering half the stranger's arm. As Taric kept admiring Jarro's bronze gauntlet, atop engraved on an octagonal shape was a shiny sapphire.

'It's about a map of stone covered in gold, that is supposed to be around here.' Jarro looked not surprised at how the Knight kept looking at his gauntlet.

'Are you a scholar?

'Well… no, but I have a college degree.' Jarro said, adjusting the goggles atop his head with a smirk.

Taric studied Jarro's clothing. Now that he said it, it all made sense. Those strange glasses, his leather trousers and light shirt, his boots, the belts on his waist and legs. All these little details didn't fit with someone that has a high education. But still, the Knight was sceptical. _Why do you keep lying?_ 'An explorer?'

Jarro smiled. 'For now, I'm just an adventurer. But in the future, everyone will know my name.' He opened his bag.

As Jarro's hand reached inside, he took out a small dark notebook. Taric looked at the handwriting upon the notebook's cover. _By the Winged Sisters! What is the young man thinking? _The Knight laughed._ Piltover's greatest, fully accredited explorer__!_

'Ah! You are witnessing my life's work.' Jarro looked at Taric who gazed, greatly interested, at his notebook. 'One day this will be recognised,' grabbing a pen he began to write.

'For you say that it's because what you are trying to achieve will be important to you.' Taric approached.

'Uh-huh,' Jarro nodded as his hand kept writing.

What was he writing about? The map? Records? About them? The Knight couldn't contain this feeling of wonder. Moving behind of the adventure's back, the Knight tried to look over Jarro's shoulders. 'Jarro…'

'Yes, Taric?'

'Would you allow me to read your journal?'

* * *

Author's Notes:

My story starts when Taric was a Demacian Knight so many stuff I have to imagine how it was his lifelike. This chapter has nothing graphic for now, I will warn you when a specific scene will show you violence for example. I hope you guys enjoy this story as did I writing it. :)

Specially thanks for Drake Darkduke, ImaginaryEngineer and Ori-Boot for helping me with my English since I'm not an English native.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

Jarro gazed at Taric in disbelief. For the first time in his years of adventuring, someone was genuinely interested in his journal.

How many times had he negotiated with the Piltover Explorers Guild manager? How regularly he tried to discuss with the Guild for more recognition? How often had he risked his neck to prove to them how serious he was? How frequently had he worked with people; in the hopes they could pay full accreditation of the Guild?

Despite all his efforts, his entry had been denied_. If I use this Knight to spread my fame— yes! This a beginning! Let him see my prowess._

With this opportunity, Jarro could steal the map. But for that to happen, Taric couldn't suspect the adventurer's actions. The map must be in his hands as soon as possible. Otherwise, his bright future will never come to pass in the world's eyes. After all, his parents were somewhere in Runeterra, waiting for him.

'In that, case then,' Jarro held forth his journal, giving it to the Knight. 'Enjoy it,' he said, with a big smile on his face.

Taric smiled courteously. 'Thank you for this opportunity.'

Turning to his horse Taric knelt down to the animal, laying the hurt squirrel on its back. Patting the horse's head, the Knight whispered as the animal grateful laid its head down.

Jarro watched as Taric opened the journal scanning, the pages. _He will love it!_ The adventurer smirked as the Knight kept his serenity. _In the end, he will say I am the best!_

'Hm…' Taric looked at him. 'Wouldn't you mind my company?'

Taric's gentle eyes met Jarro's curious ones. In that instant, somehow, the adventurer knew that the Knight will come along. It had never crossed his mind to have company on his adventures.

'It's not my custom to bring someone with me.' _However, right now, rejection is out of the question._ 'My expeditions are always full of danger. But of course, you don't need to fear, you are in good hands.'

'You must have seen so much on your travels.' Taric returned to his reading. 'You intrigue me.'

'Oh, this is just the beginning!' Jarro walked through the dense vegetation. 'And there are some other places to explore! Runeterra is the place full of rare treasures for the best to get their hands on.'

Taric didn't consider reading the journal dull. Jarro noticed the evident signs. The Knight's gentle warm smile, the delicacy with which he lifted the pages like an ancient inscription. Softly. Gently. Smoothly.

Every time he turned a page, the leaning of his head indicated that he wanted to know more. His eyes opened widely, maybe for something unusual? Perhaps a curious secret? Or merely because he was so immersed in Jarro's adventures? _He will be impressed_! Jarro glanced victoriously at the Knight.

Taric laughed, all of a sudden.

'What?' Jarro looked at him. 'Which page are you on?' He approached the Knight. 'Please tell me! There's a lot to laugh about.'

'By… the… Winged Sisters!' Taric covered his mouth.

Jarro smiled. 'Yes, you know that is to be expected, 'crossing his arms. 'There's a lot of funny people. So, you can bet on my journeys, they will get famous for their brightness if you catch my drift.' He winked.

Taric laughed as if Jarro was telling a joke.

'Aaand… for you to laugh like that, there's no doubt it's about the captain. He was an idiot.' Jarro moved one hand to his forehead. 'He was this typical pirate, you know? Big funny fancy hat, eye patch and stuff. Yet, he had this short bad temper, yes something like that. Which, of course, didn't help me at all. And here's why.' The adventurer raised one finger. 'I was er… "investigating" their lime-grog to see if what they say was true, you know? Being good and stuff. Yet… they see me touching one of them.'

'Aha…' Taric kept laughing.

'Yes, no doubt you are thinking how stupid he was to not let me have at least one sip, right? Like… what could possibly go wrong? But whatever. Anyway.' Jarro's chest filled with pride. 'He was very determined to make me jump out the ship, and as usual, he was convinced otherwise. Don't ask me how, even the best have their secrets that they don't reveal, in this case, me.' He continued his tale like he had won an argument. 'All started with a dark and windy day, with a grey sky as if at any second it will rain. The crew? We were all safe, at least that's what our navigator thought. But…' the adventurer made a dramatic pause. 'As the rain fell harshly from the sky, the ship moved unbalanced. At that time, the ship's logs were being attested, and of a sudden a poach of rough seas claimed the navigator. What happened, you may ask?'

Jarro had a big smile on his lips. He was so pleased he couldn't contain the feeling of greatness; the Knight was already glorifying him for being the best. 'The poor man didn't make it; he was the captain though. But with my quick thinking and with the star charts, I saved the day! The best part? They gave me a field promotion! Not bad right? For someone like me that just started, it was impressive, isn't it Taric?'

'That's not — aha, the part of your journey I am reading.' Taric closed the journal.

'No?' Jarro looked puzzled. 'Let me see.' As Taric showed the page, laughing. 'Yes, it's understandable if you don't believe it at first, but yes, Jarro can jump that distance.' The adventurer said nonchalantly as possible to impress the Knight, as he tossed a little of his hair on his eyes.

'Sorry, but this is hilarious!' Taric held his mouth to keep himself from laughing 'The archers of my crew are just like you, however, jumping like this? Never. That's not possible.'

Jarro puffed out his chest. 'That's because they haven't met me yet.'

'Oh, really?' Taric said. 'Then on this adventure, you will have to prove to me, you can jump this distance. Deal?' he winked.

_Just wait!_ 'Ehe… if you think that's a lie, then prepare to be surprised.' _And watch me make you look like a moron. _Jarro grinned.

Taric resumed to his reading, as both walked side-by-side in the forest. Suddenly, he felt like a prince walking to an important meeting crossed Jarro's heart. Adjusting his goggles, straightening his posture, he felt extremely exceptional.

Taric turned another page. And another. And another, as his eyes stared at the journal.

'What now?' Jarro asked.

'Occasionally you visit your uncle.' Taric looked to the next page.

'Yes, that's true.' Jarro answered like he was speaking of someone that didn't exist.

The Knight looked to him, realising his indifference. _Oh, come on! Don't tell me he will say what others always do. Don't speak like that about your uncle! Who cares? Not me._

However, Taric remained silent and returned to his reading. After several pages, he closed the journal. 'Are we close to our destination?'

At a distance, Jarro spotted the mountain's peak 'Almost. How are you finding the reading?'

'A compelling collection,' Taric nodded. 'Would you allow me to read the rest?'

Jarro smiled broadly. 'Be my guest!' _Yes! My fame will spread rapidly._

Walking in the dense forest for a while, they reached a place of rocks piled on one another, guiding them to a passage covered with branches and moss. Between the leaves and branches, clothes were tied on trunks, along with feathers and what seemed to be skeleton parts of a deer. _Will we face barbarians?_ Jarro glanced around in an attempt to catch a barbarian in the bushes.

'This is it.' Jarro pointed.

'Looks promising.' Taric looked into the intense darkness.

'It always does.' Jarro put his hands on his waist.

'Then if you allow me.'

'Yes? What about it?'

'Let me dedicate this moment to our beautiful journey.'

Jarro laughed. 'Why are you saying that?'

Taric smiled softly. 'Just as you are responsible for your adventures, my duty is to protect you.' Laying a hand gently on his chest. 'Let me be your guardian on this investigation.'

Such eagerness to risk his life to protect Jarro. According to his experience, all demacians help not just each other, but those in need. _This was indeed the right choice. He has a sturdy body which is always useful. He will not suspect a thing. _Jarro felt his heart bouncing with excitement.

'Fair enough.' Jarro nodded. 'Then let me show you what true adventure means aside with the best adventurer ever.'

'I look forward to travelling with you.' Taric put the young man's journal in his bag. 'Let's find out what this cave hides, shall we?'

Jarro smiled, excited. 'Trust me, this adventure will be the best of your life.'

'My heart is overjoyed to hear that.' Taric stepped forward. 'Let me be the first to go inside.'

'Of course.' Jarro stared at his glove.

'Your gauntlet is amazing!' Taric looked at it again. 'Where did you get this?'

_Demacians don't have much tolerance for magic. I can simply say it was found somewhere, or… a friend gave it to me. Or simply say it was discovered on my journeys. Yes! This is good. He will not ask me further questions. _Jarro glanced to the Knight that kept his eyes on the gem, like an obsession.

'It was discovered during my travels.' Jarro raised an eyebrow. _What's his deal with the crystalline matrix anyway?_

Taric smiled in amazement. 'Really? That's… fantastic!'

Jarro shook off some dust on his gauntleted hand. 'Yes, you know this is to be expected. All it was necessary was to follow some notes, and then the gauntlet as found. Despite the deadly traps and desert beasts, it was worthy of the risk.'

'Do you have any light? We will need it to go inside.' Taric glanced to the entrance. 'Going blind in the dark isn't wise.'

Jarro glanced to his glove. 'Well… we have it.'

'You mean your gauntlet?' Taric asked.

Jarro smiled triumphantly. 'Look… you Demacians are sceptic, about magic. I don't blame you.' He tapped his glove proudly. 'But rest assure, everything is under control—'

'How have you been using it, exactly?' Taric asked, crossing his arms.

Jarro smiled confidently. 'Very simple. To light the dark, blink small distances, avoid fights, and… fight if necessary. See? Isn't bad, right?' he winked.

Taric's gentle eyes, suddenly, transformed into something serious and thoughtful, like he was a judge with a hard situation at his hands and at any moment, he will have to settle the problem. Silently, the Knight moved one hand, rubbing his chin in deep thought. 'When you arrived, have you been using magic?

'No.' A feeling of danger travelled the Jarro's spine. The same adrenaline that had kept him company on his adventures. The excitement that always drove the heart to dive in danger! He knew Demacia and its rules, the consequences that he could suffer. Taric soon will arrest him, denying him further entry into the country.

However, Jarro always knew how to turn any situation at his favour. In case he went to their jail, surrounded by petricite, a material that was a mixture of the petrified trees, ash and lime since from the Rune World; the adventurer knew his gauntlet would be useless. However, using his lockpicks, he would still have a chance to escape.

Taric came closer. Soon the Knight will grab a hand or an arm. The adventurer must not allow that to happen at any cost.

Jarro stepped back, but Taric stepped forward. Then stopped. 'You are fortunate to not be inside of The Great City of Demacia.' The Knight said observantly. 'Because if you were, and if our mage seekers found out that you have used magic, you will be in big trouble.'

'But we need light, isn't it?' Jarro said with a confident smile, trying to sound wise. 'You said it yourself,' pointing to the Knight. 'Walking in the darkness wasn't the greatest idea.'

'Magic is like a filthy disease which spreads and never stops. And people become violent and impulsive.' Taric's held his chin, as the other hand was laying on the arm. Walking with small steps, the Knight ruminated about the situation. 'This statement, of course, is told by our king and consequently from our mage seekers. However, not all mages are this vile as my country wants us to believe.'

_This was unexpected… better then! This means my situation will work perfectly. _'Well of course not.' Jarro said, filing his chest with pride. 'So, this means that you—'

Taric turned his face, facing the adventurer. 'The use of your beautiful gauntlet doesn't seem dangerous.'

'But of course not.' Jarro shook his head, trying to convince the Knight. 'You are with the best adventurer of your entire life, safety first.'

'Do you have everything with you?' Taric asked.

Jarro pointed to himself, proud of the question asked. 'We have everything necessary.'

'Then, let us begin our journey.' Taric glanced at the darkness ahead.

As they passed throughout the darkness, surrounded by rocks, soil, and plants, the skeletons danced with the wind.

Already inside, sounds of water drops echoed in the dark. The intense blue light from the adventurer's gauntlet gem illuminated great numbers of rocks covered with moss and branches.

Walking downwards, they looked to both sides, searching for a suspicious sound, or merely a familiar one to break the silence. The damp humid air circulated inside, in a mixture of musty and earthy scent; as if the place had been abandoned for years. As they walked deep down, of a sudden, Jarro's eyes flashed to three crossroads.

In his mind, a vision of the same intersection played, with him having a conversation with a mysterious identity about Shuriman inscriptions, and ancient glyphs which lead to the cave location. After a long discussion with the identity, Jarro came to a conclusion. The middle path.

As the light crossed the narrow corridor, in the middle, there could be seen a cold campfire and a clay pot with washed primitive spoons. Vegetables and pieces of rabbit meat were buried on the ground.

Jarro searched in the place for an inscription on the rocks. As its gem light touched one stone closer to a hole, a strange symbol shone faintly. _There! This symbol has the same description as he told me days ago. This is the path_. Jarro signed Taric to follow him.

After crawling through a long corridor, the water drops continued, falling closer. Jarro and Taric reached their destination. A large cavern with stalactites covered with moss was divided by an extensive pool of water.

'Can you swim?' Jarro looked at the Knight.

Taric nodded. 'There's something on the other side, isn't there?' He looked to the horizon.

'Yes.' Jarro said, turning to the rocks nearby. 'We just have to know what exactly.'

Taric approached the border of the river. Fishes swam along with some frogs jumping in the water, in hopes of finding a rock to land on. He reached down with his hand.

'Calculating the depth?' Jarro searched the rocks.

Taric nodded. 'What do you suggest we do? This is more your expertise than mine.'

'Glad you asked.' Jarro said, laying one hand on his waist. 'All nature hides magic. It always does. So basically,' He moved his head while the other hand, pointed to the opposite side of the place. 'You will have to swim there, while I will search the rocks.'

'Do you believe it's the answer?' Taric took off his breastplate, as his eyes looked at the adventurer's glove.

'Yes. From all my experience, if we encounter something of this nature,' Jarro touched one rock, 'The opposite side will have a clue that links with this side.'

'Oh, got it.' Taric took off the rest of his armour.

Laying down his weapon and shield, Taric cast his eyes on the gauntlet, again.

Jarro realised the Knight was looking at the glove with big admiration. 'Found my gauntlet of your interest, Taric?'

'You could say that, yes.' Taric approached the border. 'It's your gauntlet's gems! They are beautiful! Stunning! Fabulous even!'

'Well…' Jarro smirked happily by the Knight's response_. A Knight that likes gems? This is weird but funny! Does he imagine himself surrounded by them?_ The adventure's mind imagined the Knight delighted by having a bathtub full of gems. Taric was in heaven, grabbing a ruby with a smile. 'Glad you like it so much. This is Shiriman, you know?'

'Really?' Taric asked utterly joyful, as his eyes shone even more. 'That beautiful weapon came far away? You have to tell me your story.' Diving in the water.

'You will be first to know, don't worry.' Jarro said, watching the Knight swimming on the water.

As Taric disappeared, Jarro returned his attention to the rocks. Feeling their rough texture, he noticed on the front familiar holes. The explorer had seen these types before in his expeditions, especially in ancient tombs, temples, and ruins. And by his experience dealing with these, Jarro could tell the old civilization had technology for defense from thousands of years. _Traps!_ He glanced to the other side, far away at Taric's shadow.

'Can you hear me?' Jarro's voice echoed in the place.

'Perfectly.' Taric shouted, climbing onto land on the other side.

'Anything of interest?'

'There are three Demacian symbols, representing justice, honour and duty.'

'The answer—'

'Let me try. They are familiar to me.'

Whatever Taric did, of a sudden the place quivered, as the front hefty rocks emerged from the water. Jarro moved slowly forward. As he did so, a bird flew inside. Without warning, arrows shot swiftly from the holes in the rocks behind him. Jarro dodged them, and watched as the bird tumbled into the lake.

_I hope you are watching, Taric._ Getting closer to the edge of the water, Jarro aimed his gauntlet at the first rock with a relaxed grin. _Be prepared to be impressed!_

The gem shone as Jarro's gauntlet involved itself with magic, rays of light were dancing around his glove. Like cracks his gauntlet divided itself, forming a blue bow shape of magical energy on Jarro's left hand.

Moving like flash Jarro was blinked to the rock. As his fingers grabbed a crack, arrows fired rapidly like a shot from a gun. Hot mist emerged from the hot water.

Jarro jumped quickly as his gauntlet instantaneously blinked him to the rock forward. But unexpectedly, at an astronomic speed, an arrow caught his jacket. Tearing off a little piece his jacket, the adventurer grabbed immediately the next stone. Yet slippery his boots landed wrong on the rock, making the adventurer almost fall in the water.

**'Will you keep doing this all day?**' A male Voice said, coming from his gauntlet.

'There's no other option.' Jarro linked to the next stone. 'Just keep giving me more energy.'

**'My power is limited ****boy,****'** The Voice said annoyed. '**Do not waste it without thinking.**'

'Geez, you sound like my uncle now. Always complaining his nephew to be careful with this and that. 'Jarro aimed again. 'Just stop complaining and collaborate, and the map will be in our hands soon.'

He reached to the penultimate rock. Gauging the distance between him and the Knight, Ezreal concluded that he will need Taric's strength for him to land properly on the ground; since the distance had a gap between the last rock and the lake.

Aiming the gauntlet, Jarro's eyes looked at Taric's arms. Even if the adventurer jumped from where he was, he will never reach the land. However, if Taric caught him in time, the adventurer will not die.

'Are you alright?' Taric asked, approaching to the edge.

'Yes, I'm fine.' Jarro answered, aiming the gauntlet closer to the Knight's arms. 'Can you give me a hand? The distance is a little big.'

Taric opened his arms. 'Jump to me. Is safe.'

As Jarro's glove formed the blue bow shape, coming from it, particles linked the adventurer closer to the edge, immediately he moved his hands to reach to Taric's ones. It wasn't enough. As Jarro's fingers touched the rough texture of the rock, he slipped on the gemstone. Immediately, the Knight grabbed his hands pushing up.

'What do you think it may be?' Taric asked, moving him closer to a big rock.

''It seems we will have to deflect something against the arrows.' Jarro got up fast. 'And by the looks of it, it's magic.'

Taric moved his shield to protect from a group of arrows moving to their direction. 'You know this better than me. You will have my protection while you discover a way to dispel the magic.' As they hit on the shield, the weapon absorbed them, making the shield a little brighter.

Like any place with magic, by Jarro's experience in his adventures, he knew there was always a mechanical structure somewhere in the place. It may be by removing an object, pushing something, or finding a secret passage. However, it didn't seem the case.

_According to our conversation, a gemstone should shine. My gauntlet just needs to get closer._ Illuminating the place, Jarro found a shining symbol on a rock at the end.

As his fingers touched the gemstone, all the rocks corkscrewed, transforming into mirrors. Glancing, after recharging his weapon, Jarro aimed his gauntlet shooting, a blast of magical energy which created a hole in the cave wall.

As the light from the sky reached one of the mirrors, a powerful magical light shot at the mirrors destroying them. Shards of broken glass exploded, as the rocks created a bridge through the water.

'Let me grab my armour.' Taric looked at the first rock.

'Of course.' Jarro laid his left hand in his pocket relaxed. _Let's see if the rocks can handle your weight._

Jumping to the other side, Taric fought against the gravity as he struggled to pull himself up.

Striding on the bridge, Taric reached to the other side. As he picked up his armour, the rocks shook, the Knight grabbed his arms. Trying to calculate to the distance and the lake, Taric approached the border.

'Do you think you can grab my pieces of armour?' The Knight asked, yelling.

'I can try.' Jarro yelled, opening his arms.

Yet by the looks of the Knight's armour, the adventurer had a sight suspicion about it. Looking at Taric raising his arms with his breastplate, he stepped back. Running a little, the Knight threw the armour.

Jarro followed the heavy piece of the Knight's armour flying until it was closer. The adventurer opened his arms, as it the breastplate was approaching him. As Jarro grabbed the armour, the gravity pushed him to the ground.

After Jarro tried to grab the last piece of armour, Taric moved, carefully as the bridge trembled like an earthquake. Behind, rock by rock, the bridge began to fall into the water.

_What will you do?_ Jarro observed Taric lumbering on the bridge. _If you don't react now, you will fall. But if you run—_

Taric sprinted. Violently like a volcano in its fury, the bridge's collapsed rushing towards him. As he reached the border of the bridge, the Knight could feel the bridge was closer. At the last second, as the rocks fell on his feet, Taric jumped as far as he could. Not reach to the top of the land, the Knight made a big effort to climb up.

Taric caught up his breath. 'Well, that didn't go as planned.' The Knight got up, dressing his armour again. 'Let's processed the journey.'

The massive rock serving as a door rose slowly as both left the bridge room. Inside of the intensive dark room, far away, there were four columns in which at the centre a golden tablet was floating. As Jarro raised his gauntlet, its gem immitted a bright blue light, illuminating their surroundings. Roots from trees had blocked paths and walls, as some flowers bloomed, making the place seemed like a god-like paradise garden; colourful with elegant shapes.

As Taric stepped onto the green grass, suddenly, knives felt down like rain. Instinctively, the Knight raised his shield. _Time to shine_. Although Taric signed Jarro to follow, the adventurer aimed at the spot where danger awaited him.

Turning, Taric approached. 'You will hurt yourself!' he said, concerned. 'Don't do that!'

But, Jarro disobeyed the Knight's advice. As the adventurer rushed to the tablet's direction, knives fell in the room. The blade's knife was about to penetrate on his flesh.

Jarro blinked to avoid the arrows, but wasn't enough to escape from their wrath, or the minimal second knives which penetrated his trouser's cuffs.

Jarro took off the knives on his trousers. He looked upon his head. On the holes from the ceiling of the place, the adventurer knew a mechanism was ready to fire them at any second. He loved the sense of danger, the adrenaline that his adventures always offered him; and that moment was one of them.

Closing his fist, Jarro tried to recharge his gauntlet so he could blink again, yet nothing happened. _This isn't ready yet, damn,_ he thought frustrated as Taric was approaching.

Jarro took a deep breath while his heart was bouncing nervously, as if he was racing in a horse competition. The knives shoot on his direction. Its speed was like an electric shock landing on earth.

The knives were very close. Jarro could feel they eagerly wanted to murder him. The adventurer's breath trembled anxiously forcing a smile on his face. He had to sprint to the table's place, but, how could he? His weapon wasn't ready, and he didn't any way of escape.

Soon he will perish in Demacia with no name for himself. His parents will not see him shinning like a prince on a throne, holding his treasures from all Runeterra. He will not meet them anymore. The adventurer was going to die.

As the knives were about to meet his hair, a shield covered him. Taric had arrived to his aid. 'Next time please, listen to my advice.'

'I have been in this situation many times.' Jarro looked at the tablet that was still floating. 'And it will happen again. Got used to it now.' As his heartbeat was returning back.

Taric sighed heavily. 'Jarro please, this is not the time for games. You could have died today.'

'My first adventure started with my travel from my country to Shurima to have it, risking my neck for it.' Jarro pointed to the gauntlet, proudly smiling. 'Dealing with ancient traps coming from a sarcophagus, escaping barely with my life while the building was collapsing. A good start for the best, no?'

'And you will do it again, no doubt.' After another rain of knives, Taric raised his shield to protect once again. 'But life is beautiful. Too much even to not be wasted.'

'But that's exactly why.' Jarro glanced at the Knight. 'If life is so intense, what's the point not test the limits? Life without danger it's boring.'

'You surprise me, Jarro. You really do.' Taric smiled friendly. 'If that's your wish then stay with me, until we reach that.' The Knight pointed to the golden table.

'That was my thought all along.' Jarro aimed his gauntlet once again. 'But first—'

In that instant, Taric pushed gently the magical glove away. 'You will not need it. Let your beautiful weapon rest.' The Knight patted the adventurer's shoulder. 'Stay with me, at my side, and you will be alive.'

Jarro wanted a second attempt to reach the tablet, however, the adventurer felt Taric was tempting him. It was so irresistible to deny his request, almost as if the Knight was a powerful mage casting a charm spell. 'Of course. This time you lead.'

Taric chuckled. 'It's not about leading.' He began to walk and so the adventurer. 'I am your guardian. My duty is to make sure you are safe.' He winked.

Jarro smiled. 'Of course.' He made an elegant gesture like a nobleman gesturing Taric to pass through him. 'After you then, my Knight.'

Realising the Knight was focused on the tablet, the adventurer time at time glanced at the roof. As they walked a little, Jarro spotted some brightness in the holes, more would come. As it happened, the adventurer alerted the Knight of the event. Taric raised his shield, leaving his weapon to block the attack.

Both looked at another. Jarro could see how satisfied Taric was by his action, his warm gentle smile as an indication that he was pleased by Jarro's good deed.

After several times protecting and warning, both were getting closer to the place that Jarro needed. A couple of runs and they will reach the destination.

'If we ran, we would have a chance to reach the place.' Jarro suggested, as the Knight was calculating the distance.

'You are right.' Taric held his shield firmly. 'At your mark.'

'Steady…' Jarro glanced to the holes, ready to fire. 'Ready…' Finally, the knives shoot violently like they were in battle. 'Now!'

Both ran on the table's path as the knives fell. Just as he was about to be hit by one, Taric used his shield, yet a knife penetrated all the way through his thigh.

'Hmph!' Taric groaned.

'We are close.' Jarro looked at the tablet. 'Just keep going.'

Taric stared at him enduring the pain.

'What's the matter?' Jarro said, noticing the Knight absent from his side. 'Didn't you hear me?'

Taric turned away. 'It's clear my presence is making you uncomfortable.' He looked at the vast rain of knives.

'Well… then just keep going.' Jarro insisted. 'If you stop right now—'

'Sorry if that's the case— Hmm!' Taric walked excruciatingly. 'You will not see me again. Farewell.'

The adventurer watched the Knight walking through the rain of knives. Clearly, his leg wasn't in the best shape, yet Jarro was unable to see the problem.

Maybe Taric wasn't the best choice, after all? Was he so weak? He was a Knight it was impossible for him to complain like that. _His problem, not mine. At least the map will be on my hands!_

**'That's my boy.'** The Voice said, amused.

Jarro rubbed his chin. Why didn't the tablet shine? Was there any trick, he has to do around the room? According to his conversation with the Voice, the map should shine like the sun, as a reaction to someone with magical power.

He observed the columns. All sculpture of warriors holding shields were turned to the tablet. Jarro raised his gauntlet and nothing happened.

'Give me your power!' Jarro demanded.

**'Are you stupid? '** The Voice said, annoyed.

'Are you an idiot?' Demanded Jarro, frustrated. _Why isn't it working?_ 'Just give me your power! We have to do something here.'

**'Boy…'** The Voice took a deep breath. **'You said clearly you found the place. Don't you dare demand something from me!'**

'Tsk…" Jarro crossed his arms. 'You know perfectly there's nobody better than me. So, stop acting like a child and just give me your power.'

'**You are talking with the emperor!'** The Voice said mad. **'If you talk with me like that just one more, I swear by my ancestors you will be a dead corpse.'**

'And how will you kill me? Hum?' Jarro grinned, satisfied with his own response, like he had won the debate. 'You said it yourself you need me to empower the gauntlet, which of course now is mine.'

'**By the Gods**.' The Voice said vividly with hunger. '**Go ahead. Use my magic.'**

And he tried again, and again, but nothing happened. Frustrated, Jarro kicked a rock from the ground. After all, this was the right location.

In that instant, he remembered their conversation. There was no doubt in his mind that it was supposed to be in the cave. Then why was he in the wrong place?

**'Aha!'** The Voice scoffed. **'You are wrong! You made a mistake!'**

'Not really.' Jarro said, walking around the statues. "Just… misdirection. That's all.'

**'Admit it—**' The Voice said in a withering tone.

'Well if it amuses you hear me— hold it!' Jarro looked excitedly to the map and to the statues. 'Upon shadow and light, you shall find the passage to the chamber of secrets.' He smiled widely. 'Of course! Now it all makes sense.'

When he held the gem's light closer to the statues, their eyes shone like the sun, rotating clockwise. A big thump echoed, making the cave tremble. Huge amounts of magical energy were concentrated in the statue's eyes. From them came blasts of magical energy hitting on the map.

Like a spell, the map vanished, leaving the place in darkness. Particles spread in the air, forming the Demacia map. A circle shone faintly on top of what seemed to be buildings close to the Demacian king's home.

Suddenly, all the cave trembled violently if the place was about to explode. Using the gauntlet's light, the adventurer glanced at the floor in which cracks were forming. Jarro smiled satisfied. He couldn't complain the nature of the place, since these scenarios were familiar to him.

Lowering his body, putting his fingers on the ground Jarro prepared to sprint. With enough balance and speed, the adventurer ran through the place. The floor trembled as some rocks fell from the ceiling. As feet stepped on the cracks, the floor fell. Jarro rushed to the end of the place. There was no sign of Taric, although a trail of blood marked his path on the floor. _Right… he has my journal. No matter. He can have it, for a time of course. This record must be written before my departure._

With the real map in his hands, Jarro's heart bounced, excited at the great discovery. The adventurer smiled like a victorious prince.

Now more than ever, the adventurer could steal, what finally will belong to his big collection of treasures of Runeterra.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Notes:_

Hello, everyone!

I want to thank my beat-readers, you guys rock! Also thanking for those who are following this story. Many thanks for your patience, this stuff takes time, and I like to make sure that everything is in place along with my beta readers. This chapter is a bit long, so I hope you guys don't mind.

**WARNING**: in this chapter, it will contain descriptions of violence. You have been warned

* * *

**Chapter III**

After minutes of severe pain, the Knight finally left the cave. His wounded leg shivered as he stepped on the grass. Taric laid down next to a tree. Looking at his leg bleeding, he took off his cuisse._Why did you use me? You weren't hurt but protected! I am a Knight! You should respect me_. He moved his hands, grabbing the knife in his thigh.

Grabbing the knife firmly, as he took a deep breath, the Knight pulled it out the knife. Blood splashed on his leg. 'Ahhh!' Taric screamed excruciatingly.

Laying his thigh gently, he took bandages from his belts, rolling around his leg. Ambling with pain in the dense forest, Taric reached out to his horse. As the animal sensed his presence, its head softly patted Knight's belly.

'How is our little friend?' Taric looked to the sleepy squirrel. The horse neighed, feeling his gentleness. 'Take me to the Illuminator's Temple. Our friend needs help.'

Mounting his horse, Taric rode back to the city, while holding the squirrel like being in a shield. _First, find out who trapped the squirrel. It's unacceptable to hurt other living creatures. Then, after finding out the culprit read Ezreal's journal._

Reaching the Great city of Demacia, the commoners were startled at Taric's swift pacing. Turning to a corner where a group of bakers carried on a fresh cart bread, the Knight spotted closer to a group of houses a tall bright building.

A majestic construction shining by the bright light highlighted the massive blue copula atop of the building. Daisies surrounded the temple on white carved wings shape serving as a vase, welcoming any guest with a sweet fragrance. Hobbling, Taric reached the white, massive archway. Atop it was carved with great detail a sculpture of a human figure bending over with open wings, like an angel ascending to the mortal realms.

Getting inside, two wings emerged from the open centre of the small room. On the right-side a white wing, and on the left side there was bound a dark wing welcoming the faithful.

Opening the right door, a long white carpet with blue and gold simple straight lines on the borders, guided the Knight inside of the temple. Taric was delighted to admire such beautiful architecture.

Although the white was the predominant colour, the carvings were made with great detail. The arched columns were human figures with angel wings, serving as vase to daisies. Between them, there were stained glass windows with circular shapes, illuminating a small part of the temple.

While walking, Taric looked above his head. Elegant forms held with golden suspenders, candles on a chandelier illuminating the congregation. Reaching in the middle of the room, Taric stopped to contemplate the prominent Demacian iconography on the walls.

The Knight desired to express such a beautiful scene, but, how could he? There were no words to describe such elegance and delicacy of the painting.

The image was painted of open skies of blinding light as if the stars reunited their beam in one place. With great majesty and glory was ascending a humanoid figure dressed with heavy white armour. On her helmet in place of her eyes, were orbs of fire.

Taric felt a sense of justice as if he was witnessing her unforgiving wrath, punishing the wicked.

At her back on the line, the first ones worn heavy, medium and light armour, raising their weapons in devotion to Her arrival, exalting with great fervour. Next, men and women dressed in ochre clothing and white aprons with small shite hats carrying loaves of bread. Their faces had signs of old age, firm evident rectangular faces and hands with some marks of hard-working. Next on their back men and woman alike were dressed in fancy white and blue dressing holding baskets with fruit, fish, meat and wheat. Children were playing with animals such as cats, dogs, chicken, pigs and other farm animals.

At the front, Her swords surrounded with holy fire pointed to a man with white robes and golden lines on his torase of wings shape. Shoed with pointed shoes, he wore a long blue cape with a golden falcon symbol and a golden crown upon his head. At his side was placed closer to his feet a gilded lawbook, while he begged for her mercy. Taric new that later, the man was burned alive with blood on his hands, along the parts of the city with men, women and children.

The Knight knew this tale since it was tradition for parents tell to their children as a moral story. It was believed that all started a long time ago when a cruel King that lead his people to poverty. In a time of great famine, the King gathered everyone from his realm to his courtyard. He declared that he will end the old laws since it as on his right, and to show that he cast aside the gilded lawbook to the floor proclaiming himself the law. And since the kingdom had too many mouths to feed, he decided that no elder shall be fed. That created chaos and forced his guards to capture all elderly people to be executed.

The first in line to be executed was a baker. The poor old man implored with his life that he could still give food to everyone. However, the King had too much cruelty in his heart, so he asked if the old man could be young again. The baker had no chance to defend himself against his King. The king said that no redemption shall be held. He ordered to execute the baker. And so, it was done, the old man's head rolled to the ground.

When all seemed to be lost for the people, the immortal Protector appeared in Her great glory. With her blades, she burned the unjust and wicked. And since that day the survivors would remember forever of the glorious day, that from ashes they would have a chance to rebuild the city in justice and honour.

This, according to Taric's father, was a lesson to everyone that nobody was above the law and justice. All Demacians must act with virtue and honour.

A bright light coming from the massive copula illuminated the sanctuary. Ambling, Taric steeped up on the white stairs in pain. At centre yet closer to the first line of the congregation, there was a lector with simple carvings. Atop a final massive white book had, as an illustration, the Protector's image with an aura surrounding her head.

Already inside of the sanctuary, Taric looked around.

Braziers with golden supporters were burned out. Behind there was the altar covered with a cloth with sapphires on the borders. Atop small books were upon one another, aside with two candles that were burned out. Aside, closer to the altar, there was a credence table with white cloth sewed with elegant blue and golden designs. Atop, a pure chalice was close to three white plates and a jar with three white towels.

Behind the temple was the celebrant's chair in the middle. A tall chair carved with straight golden lines, closer above of two small ones.

_A thing of beauty is a joy forever. _As Taric got closer, he smiled hypnotised by the grace that the light was illuminating the brightest thing in the sanctuary.

Carved in white stone was The Protector, a figure with a radiant aura surrounded its head. Massive wings came from its shoulders as it held two swords against its chest. The expression on the helmet was austere, with no emotion, a perfection beyond any mortal comprehension. Hundreds of candles covered the plinth at its feet.

The Knight felt genuine curiosity crossing his heart as the pain on his thigh had disappeared. 'The heavens have descended your presence.' Taric kept admiring her divine figure. Looking at everything like it was his first time, although he had seen it so many times. He touched the carvings of the statue. 'As a champion, you will have my word to protect your grace. No battle, no thief, no intruder shall damage your eternal beauty.'

'She is pleased with your words, Sir Taric.' A male voice spoke nearby.

As Taric was moving his finger to touch Her helmet. 'The artist captured her divine charm so well.' The Knight reached for it to admire the hard work of the artist that managed to express her beauty exquisitely.

A man with white robes walked at a slow pace towards the Knight. 'Everyone is always captured by Her divinity.' The priest joined his hands in a gesture of prayer.

Taric kept admiring more of the statue's elegance. 'It's impossible to take your eyes off her.'

As the Knight turned to face the priest, the old man looked at his arm covered with his cape. 'Ah! Bless you, Protector.' He said, blessing himself with a relieved tone on his voice. 'For seconds, I thought we would have another big creature. The last time you brought us one, the followers ran away. She could have lost faithful members. Thankfully that didn't happen.'

Taric laughed, approaching the priest. The old man laid his hand on the altar. 'As far as my memory goes, the last one wasn't that big.'

'Not big?' The priest looked at him with his narrowed small eyes. The crackles around his small, thin lips made him seem like a furious little man. 'With all the respect Sir Taric, the last beast was almost big as that column.' He pointed to one closer to the assembly benches.

Taric chuckled. 'Alright, it was almost half of that column.' As a smile escape on his lips. 'So, not that big, right?'

The priest sighed clearly a man with no patience for humour. 'It was still big. And if you desire to bring us animals to get our aid, please consider their size. Her home is not a shelter but a divine place, refuge to those who seek her guidance—'

'No doubt her followers will ask for all that enlightenment.' Taric said as he gingerly showed the wounded squirrel that opened its eyes. 'However, right now, this poor creature needs your aid. More than ever.'

Pulling off his hood, the priest leaned forward his head, observing the animal. Startled the squirrel lowered its body, laying down his long tail. The squirrel moved its hands in Taric's palms as if the animal had an electric shock. As the priest righted his glasses, the squirrel ran over Taric's hand. The Knight could feel the animal's little fingers touching his cheeks, feeling its soft fur on his skin._This is so adorable!_

Taric chuckled. 'Scared of him?' The Knight asked as if the animal looked at him. 'There.' The Knight patted squirrel's back. 'He is going to help you get better.'

Feeling the Knight was giving full attention, the squirrel closed his eyes gently to feel Taric fingers caring its back tenderly. Then, after minutes of feeling spoiled, the animal stretched its body to the priest. Closer, the old man examined the improvised bandages at squirrel's hands.

'It's good you did this Sir Taric.' The priest grabbed the animal's paws. 'This little creature has been lucky to have stumbled across someone like you.'

'Is it bad?' Taric asked, concerned.

The priest shook his head. 'This helped to stop the bleeding.' After he unrolled one of the bandages, the old man showed the injury of the coiled blood on the animal's paws, rolling back the bandages.

'As usual, this situation will be in your hands.' Taric said.

'Your little friend will be alright. Come back later, as always.' As the priest was about to turn, he noticed the Knight held his thigh. 'You need our aid, Sir Taric.'

'If you could, please.' Taric nodded.

'Before that.' The priest looked at the statue. 'Let me light a candle in her name. You need to rest your thigh.'

Taric shook his head. 'Let me do it instantly.' He looked at the squirrel looking at him as its eyes were closing. 'Even hurt, there is still energy left in me. And besides, it's for him.' Pointing to the animal already sleeping.

The priest smiled. 'Ah, bless your heart.' He approached the Knight. 'In that case, sit on my chair Ser Taric. With your thigh in that condition, you will need something to support your leg.'

'Thank you very much.' Taric grabbed the animal.

With his slow pace, the priest walked to a door. On a significant height, Taric could imagine what it was like to be on the chair. A place filled with followers listening to the lessons of Her good deeds to be good Demacians. He felt not just pride but loneliness. The utter silence was harmonious but sad. How could that be possible? The Knight mused as his eyes admired to the shining lights fighting with each other, on a mixture of blue and white in the congregation. Surely the architecture could bring joy to those who sacrificed their lives to teach others Her sacred words? Would they be alone for the rest of their lives? Could it be possible they will ever feel joy?

Yet, despite all this grim reality, Taric felt those who sacrificed their causticity to help others was a sign of love. A beauty that no one probably will value. _Now it makes sense. Why they can't compromise themselves to someone. How noble their work is_. Such graceful thought brought a smile to his lips.

Minutes later, the priest returned. Holding a little the robe, he brought a pillow and a candle. The Knight got up on that instant as the old man approached. They walked to the statue. Bending a little over, the priest tried to lay the stool, yet his hands shivered. As the seat was about to fall, Taric lands a hand to right it properly.

The priest smiled graciously for his help lighting the candle. Then he gestured the Knight to kneel, giving him the torch. Kneeling his leg wasn't a problem, however, kneeling the hurt thigh was like a pair of needles pinching inside of his muscles. Taric's teeth cringed, closing his eyes fast as his leg was trembling.

The priest held his shoulder realising the Knight was in pain. However, despite all the agony, Taric laid the candle at the statue's feet. As he got up slowly, the priest cuffed. 'Something is missing.' The old man said, glancing at him in protest.

'Me?' Taric asked puzzled. 'Is it about the squirrel?'

'Her.' The priest pointed to the statue. 'A little prayer could be ideal or a respectful bow.'

Taric got up slowly. 'She knows my duty perfectly as a Knight has done.' Then he patted the priest's shoulders friendly. 'It was promised to protect her grace.'

As their eyes crossed on another, Taric realised the old man was disappointed almost as if the Knight had broken a vow. 'As is my duty as a Demacian, I insist. She would appreciate your attention since you are asking her aid in return.'

Taric smiled. 'But she received my attention back.' The Knight said in a suave tone. 'Placing a candle at her feet for the hurting squirrel and admiring her beauty.'

The priest looked annoyed at the Knight. 'One day you will answer in her presence for such insolence, Sir Taric.'

Taric laugh. 'And surely she would say that everything was righteous.' With a smile escaping his lips, the Knight moved his hand on his chest. 'You will hear that Sir Taric was committed to his oaths.'

The priest sighed heavily. 'May one day She will enlighten you with her wisdom.' He said as the Knight could hear the old man mumbling. 'Because you are blind.'

'If She hadn't, this poor creature wouldn't be here.' Taric said, adjusting his hair with vanity.

'Come. We need to take care of your thigh.' The priest said, gesturing the Knight to follow him.

Both passed through the door. As they walked down the corridor, one of the doors was slightly opened. Inside a choir was singing in great harmony, men and women dressed in white. The Knight stopped to listen to the music. Voices coming from the heavens glorified The Protector.

'Will they sing later?' Taric asked.

The priest nodded, looking at the Knight listening to the song with serenity. 'You are invited to attend the event if you like.'

Taric looked at the old man. 'But of course! Who will miss magnificent music? Not me.'

After walking the corridors, Taric opened a door in a middle of two jars with daisies. The first thing he noticed was the light coming from the stained glasses illuminating the place. The priest signed the Knight to sit on the bed.

Closer to the bed was a side table in which, atop was in a bowl, white clean folded towels. A jar full of water was next to a candle.

The old man laid the animal next to the Knight. On that second, the door opened. 'Excuse me.' A lad with white robes came inside. 'The Minister desires to speak with you now.'

The priest righted his glasses, looking at the young man that was waiting for his answer. 'You! Come here, lad.' The old man signed the acolyte to approach.

'Yes?' The lad said, in a shy tone lowering his head as if he will receive a severe punishment.

'For days, you were begging to prove yourself.'

'That's true, mister.'

'Well… here you have. A Knight. A worthy man to have your aid.' The priest crossed his arms, impatiently waiting for the lad to do something.

'Y-yes!' The lad said nervously, moving his fingers in a despaired attempt to relax, only to discover to have failed.

The priest sighed, rolling his eyes. 'Lad! Move! Go grab your oils, herbs. Anything you think you should do in this situation!' He cried out.

'Y-yes! Immediately!' The lad lowered more his head. He glanced at the Knight like a frightened little animal. 'In… in a minute, Sir!'

Taric nodded softly. 'Take your time.'

The lad limited himself to nodded in respect. He looked at the old man. 'What do you suggest to tell Minister?'

The priest walked at a slow pace towards the acolyte. 'Tell her that your Hight priest can't go right now. We have a wounded Knight to take care of.' Laying his hands on the lad's shoulders. 'Now.'

The lad nodded, closing the door gently behind them. The priest sighed irritated. Rubbing his eyes constantly as if they were itching badly. He shook his head slowly.

'Is he starting?'

'No. He was trained well to do his duty, Sir Taric. He shouldn't behave like this, ever.'

'You have to encourage him more. All he needs is a little push, here and there.' Taric leaned forward to the priest.

'That's what I thought.' The priest nodded, getting a sit on the bed. 'The lad is talented. He understands the basics, and once in a while, he sneaks during the night to grab more advanced medicine books to give a quick look.'

After a couple of minutes, the acolyte returned, bringing with him a bowl with vinegar, wine, oil and fig leaves. Laying the bowl closer to the Knight, the lad took off the towels from the side table and the jar.

With everything aside, the acolyte as gently as possible took off the Knight's cuisse. Laying the piece of armour on the floor, he inspected the wound. It was ugly and messy. The flesh was opened as if someone had grabbed a knife and slashed the Knight heavily.

Taric observed the acolyte. He was expecting the lad to run away. However, that thought disappeared as he began to mix oil with fig leaves in a small bowl.

'What happened?' The priest asked, as the acolyte finishing the mixture unrolled the bandages on the Knight's thigh, cleaning the blood with a white wet towel.

'Helping someone.'

The acolyte looked at the Knight. 'This will be itchy, Sir.'

'Very well.' Taric nodded, glancing at the deep wound.

'Was it a barbarian? A mage?' The priest asked, observing the acolyte preparing to use the mixture on a white towel into the Knight's wound.

Taric shook his head. 'You probably know him—' Suddenly the Knight felt his thigh itchy as the acolyte had warned him, but the next part was painful. After the irritating feeling, Taric felt as his insides were going mad, like being in a fight. 'Hm!' He groaned, moving his hands to hold his thigh.

'Er… Sir?' The acolyte said as the Knight glanced at him. 'It's frustrating, but could you please take off your hands? If you keep doing that, your condition will get worse.'

Taric limited himself to nod. Then he faced the priest that was waiting for him to tell the responsible for the accident. 'Jarro Lightfeather. He was in Demacia's forest today.'

As the Knight said the name, Taric could notice the priest didn't like the adventurer at all. His lower lip frowned heavily as if he was chewing rotten food. His eyes pupils reflected discontent like a priest that held a solemn confession of a dangerous criminal.

'You don't fancy him.' Taric concluded as the acolyte washed the wound with wine and fig leaves.

'Nobody does, Sir Taric.' The priest sighed heavily. 'Since the first day he stepped on our territory, I believe our guards had to keep an eye on him.'

'Why?' Taric asked.

'This is not from me but,' the priest looked around as if he was looking for some at the walls, popping the ears to listen to them. Then he faced the Knight. 'Do you remember when he tried to uncover the death of the actress that plays a maiden with a lamb mask?' Taric nodded. 'On that same day, according to a guard's conversation, after he finished the investigation, he was sneaking around the scene of the death.' The priest whispered. 'The guards had to call him twice to not return to a place where an investigation was in process.'

'So, he is a criminal.' Taric added, observing the acolyte rolling a new bandage on his thigh.

The priest nodded. 'He is looking for trouble.' He looked at the acolyte that signed Taric to stand up. As the Knight obeyed, the lad put the cuisse back. 'He is a mischievous and evil young man, nothing else.'

Taric widely opened his eyes. 'Serious.' He crossed his arms as the acolyte finished the task. 'He isn't that evil or mischievous. You have seen worse than that.' The Knight twitched his lips, although, a smirk escaped his mouth.

'Maybe, but he doesn't inspire trust.'

'But he does manage to cause trouble for adventure. And a good one nevertheless.'

The priest looked at the Knight with his eyes opened like an owl's. 'Are you implying that you will do it as well?'

'Oh, yes. Always tempted.' Taric said in a playful tone. 'Imagine me walking in the streets, trespassing in forbidden places. Making the guards completely going mad, searching for something that isn't there. Only to discover red roses.'

'You wouldn't dare!'

'You doubt it?' Taric winked. 'Then, after the amusing discovering, they will run after me shouting. 'Ser Taric, how dare you to do such a thing!' Taric's voice becomes deep like a drunk in a tavern. 'Don't you have honour? Don't you know your responsibilities?' Then the Knight laid his hands on his waist, moving his head smoothly to pull a little of his hair on his back. 'In which I will answer. 'But of course. It is just irresistible to stay in order. Sorry for my disobedience.'

'Sir Taric!' The priest said in protest. 'If your father could listen to you just now, he would be ashamed!'

_His face right now is so funny!_ Taric laughed. 'Oh, my friend, what's life without a little laugher?' patting the priest's shoulders gently.

'Sir.' The acolyte approached the Knight, with all the things dirty but with a pleasant smell in the bowl. 'Today, you will have to rest. That wound was ugly and may open again—'

'Thank you for your concern.' Taric said gently to the lad that nodded fast. 'However, my duties are priory. As Knight resting, it will be futile. Fragile lives need my aid.'

'Go wash that already.' The priest pointed to the door. 'And you did well today. Good job, lad.'

The acolyte looked at the Knight that nodded in an encouraging way for the lad to be proud of his task. And by his look, the Knight could conclude he was right. The lad's lips lines moved up while he showed his teeth, his eyes shined radiantly like a fulfilled acolyte that had achieved his priesthood.

'Immediately.' The acolyte nodded, walking to the door.

The priest waited for a little for the acolyte to shoot the door. 'What will you do about Jarro?'

That was a good question. Taric felt extremely upset for being used, especially for someone that had been in his country before. When he met Jarro, Taric was expecting to be respected since his position was significant with prestige and power. Yet the adventurer showed to be selfish and arrogant, these two things that could push off anyone from him. On the other hand, Jarro is shown to be knowledgeable and intelligent. So, why was he so unpleasant? _There must be a reason why he acts the way he does. Lack of confidence? Personality? Or maybe is something from his family?_

'He left me reading his journal.' Taric grabbed Jarro's journal. The image of Jarro writing in it came to the Knight's mind. He was really enjoying documenting everything that happened. His confident and joyful smile was genuine.

The priest looked at the Knight. Narrowing his eyes in doubt, the old man laid his hand on Taric's shoulder. 'You are not thinking of helping Jarro, are you?'

'Not for now.' Taric answered, walking out of the corridors. 'Yes, he did a terrible deed today—'

The priest sighed. 'Lad with all the respect, Jarro will never listen to you. Someone like him doesn't deserve your attention.'

'Maybe it will be my mistake in the future.' Taric glanced at Jarro's journal. 'The answer is inside here.'

'Knowing you all these years, nothing will change your mind.' The priest shook his head. 'Just be careful. And if you find out he's for trouble, report to our guards.'

'Our men are well trained. That wouldn't be necessary.' Taric opened the corridor door, patting the old man's shoulder.

As the Knight left the corridors, his eyes looked to the candle he had lighted to the Protector. Just like a blink of his eye, the flame flickered. Immediately, Taric looked to the statute. Its eyes shined like fire for seconds.

'Protector, you do not agree with my judgment?' But the statute stayed silent. Cold. Emotionless. 'This is the right choice. He will realise his actions, you will see.'

With pressing matters to attempt, Taric left the place in search of the hunter group responsible for the attempt of hurting the flying squirrels. After passing some residential streets and shops, Taric reached the marketplace. In a fountain with white columns, laughing children were splitting water with another. On stalls were merchants selling their merchandise, bread, fry food, spices, rugs, fish, meat, fruit and vegetables, weapons and tools. Suddenly, a familiar earthly smell floated on the air. The stall spices were the attraction today, soldiers and ladies were tasting cumin.

As Taric was about to approach to a vegetable and fruit stall, someone pocked his shoulder. 'Yes? Who is it?' Taric turned.

A man righted his hat with an eagle feather at the top. 'You must be Sir Taric.'

'That's correct.' Taric nodded. 'And who am I having the pleasure to speak with?' He pushed his hair on his back.

'Hunter's Guild Master, my name is Titus. A pleasure Sir Taric.' The hunter made a respectful bow.

_That's the thing Jarro should have done._ 'The pleasure is all mine.' Taric smiled, satisfied with respect towards him. 'Could you please be so kind and tell me what's the matter at hand?'

The hunter looked around as some people passed by. 'It's very delicate and something we shouldn't discuss in public.' He whispered.

'But of course.' Taric nodded. 'Please lead the way.'

Walking in city as both reached a more countryside structure, passing through the mountains, the Knight could see a wooden sign with Demacian calligraphy written, hunter's Guild. The structure was exactly the same as the city, however here the materials were petricite with bricks on rooftops.

Inside the Knight spotted men and women sitting on chairs chatting with each other. On the walls were not only the hunter's weaponry exposed, but also what they like to call trophies; heads of a deers, wild boars, wolves, bats, ravens and the massive of all crag beast. Taric felt his stomach squeezing his insides so hard that he could feel uncomfortable as if he was ready to vomit. _Sowing like this is wrong!_

Walking in the crowd of hunters that were having their break, Taric and Titus approached a door closer to a deer trophy. The Knight took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact with the trophy as the hunter opened the door. In the middle of the room, there was a fireplace, in which it was displayed a crossbow. On the wall atop of the fire, the Knight noticed markings with a simple metal sign something written.

Despite the simple furniture, the most contrasting thing in the room were the columns of the corners; carvings of the wild beast well known of the country, Crag beast. Admiring the precision, Taric was astonished by the detail on the petricite of the beast's fur, its opened eyes closer to his spiky nose and large horns coming from its face skull; as if the creature was coming out of the columns to attack the visitor.

Next to it was a cupboard with glasses inside well organized, and above, alcoholic bottles. Taric could recognise some drinks such as rum and wine.

Closer to a large window but semi-covered with blue curtains were several papers under the table. As Taric approached, he noticed on the floor the head of animals carved on a wood shield-like shape.

The hunter noticed the Knight's quick observation. 'Sharp eye you have, Sir Taric. Guess I was wrong of thinking to hide this to not cause you discomfort.' He said, walking to a cupboard closer the beast statue.

Taric smiled courteously. 'Nothing escapes from my sight.'

'Apparently not.' Opening a shelve, Titus grabbed two cups and a glass of wine. 'Do you fancy wine? This one is Demacian.'

'My favourite!' Taric nodded as the hunter laid the cups carefully on the table.

Next, the hunter filled the cups as he sat on the table. Taric grabbed the glass holding on an angle. He noticed a little light red on the centre, fading out to a pink colour on the outside of the glass. He cognized immediately to be Demacian red wine, especially old-style, by the oxidization in it.

The Knight swirled the cup gently, putting his nose all the way down into the cup._Mm... refreshing. Smells really good. _An aroma of red fruits crossed his senses, a mixture of cherries, grapes, raspberries and a little bit of tobacco. Giving a quick sip, the liquid swirled around his mouth. Stewed red fruits reminded him of strawberry pie with crust.

'Lovely drink.' Taric said, crossing one leg. 'This indeed is the finest Demacian wine.' As he gave another small sip.

'Thought you would enjoy this, Sir Taric.' Titus said, laying his cup on the table as he grabbed the trophies. He walked to a wardrobe closer to a trophy of hunting weapons. 'If you excuse me.'

'Very thoughtful of you.' Taric nodded as the hunter put the trophies inside. 'Now, what is the reason you wanted to discuss with me?'

'You probably have an idea.' The hunter said, sitting on the table. He gave a little sip. 'It's about the mess that one of my members is causing at the King's Head tavern. Something dealing with squirrel meat.'

'You came in good time, my friend.' Taric nodded, satisfied. 'During my training, it crossed my mind that the poor creature would die this time. But thankfully I came in time to save him. Is this some kind of rampage of murder? Hate towards animals?'

'No idea to be honest.' Titus whirled his cup thoughtfully. 'If this situation goes further, not only will it put my guild at risk but also rumours will spread fast.'

'And that's why you are confiding in me for that to not happen again correct?' Taric gave another sip, laying the cup on the table delicately as if he was holding a beautiful piece of art.

Titus nodded. 'Aye. Let me tell you how all this started, Sir Taric.'

Putting his cup aside, Titus joined his hands. He moved his fingers thoughtful like manor, almost as if he recalled the terrible event. By his expression, Taric could observe the man in detail. The hunter twitching his walrus moustache, unpleasant although the Knight could notice his serious, calm small eyes staring at him.

'Our business with the tavern of The King's Head was doing well. In fact, we are their favourite food distributor, my boys and girls always deliver what they need for their costumers.' As Titus gave another sip, a little of wine ran on his moustache. Grabbing a handkerchief, he cleaned it carefully. 'All started by the owner ordering a wild boar for a wedding. Everything went well, as usual, discussing the price and the quantity of the food.'

'Is it normal for your profession to use a cage?'

'Yes, but our cages are made of the hood. Why? Did you find something strange?'

'The cage was made of iron, almost as if it was made from a dungeon proposedly to torture.'

'You said the squirrel was injured. How badly is it?' Titus asked.

'Its paws were bleeding, everywhere. The squirrel tried to stop the blood. It was messy and horrible.' Taric explained.

'Ah! That makes all sense now.' Titus nodded. 'It wasn't the shabby lad. He never was keen into hunting, to be honest. He is just here to make his family proud, that's all.' The hunter has another sip. 'And neither the young lady. Watching blood makes her disgusted.'

'Speaking of members, could you please describe them for me?'

'You are thinking to discuss this with them? To be honest, Sir Taric doesn't bother with that.' The hunter looked down on his wine. 'That one and the young lady can come here, and I was thinking of telling them to find something that they could fancy. This business is not for everyone.'

'Then who do you want me to focus on?' Taric asked, noticing the hunter squeezing his moustache.

'The one that started all this mess.' The man said in a harsh voice almost as if he was spiting on the ground. 'He is a slim lad. Which makes many of us thinking why in the first place he decided to be a hunter. Because let's face it, on this profession at least your body as to be strong.'

'Then why did you hire him?'

'We needed young people in our group.' The hunter said more in a way to dispatch the Knight. 'However, if we knew that could turn into this—'

'Anything more you can tell me?' Taric interrupted him.

Realising he was cut off, the hunter stared at the Knight with unpleasant eyes. 'Even if you had his description will be like every average Demacian young man. However, look for his home on the district closer to the walls to the farms. That should be his place.'

Taric could see Titus's unhappy face. These observant small dark eyes will not escape anything from his sight, like a hunter preparing to shoot on a prey. The hunter moved his moustache, adjusting his hunter hat.

'A certain bird from my guild told me that you have… a special talent to deal with people without creating any fuss.'

Taric straightens his posture, moving his fingers on the knee like a nobleman. 'That's true.' The Knight moved his hair with vanity, as a big smile escaped his lips. 'There's no point fighting the lad.'

The hunter smiled for seconds. 'And that's why we will count on you for this small but important task, Sir Taric.' Titus faced the Knight. 'The lad is out of his mind, he may even sound like a murder true be told; but as responsible and the owner of the guild, we will deal with this on our way.'

'This means no guards involved?' Taric asked curiously.

The hunter nodded. 'We aren't a shady organisation, and the guard's help will always be welcomed. However, we can't rely on them all the time.'

_It's not only that._ Taric could tell by the hunter's reaction. His words spoken sincerely and honesty, yet there were traces of guilty and responsibility like the owner was the father of all members. 'You feel responsible for the lad's actions.'

Laying his hand on the table, Titus nodded. 'That's true. If something goes wrong, it's me who will have to deal with the consequences.' He explained. 'So, Sir Taric, can this humble guild be counting on your help?'

Taric smiled. 'But of course.'

The hunter stood up. 'We are counting on you for this issue.' Standing his hand. 'Please do not kill the lad.'

Taric stood up. 'You will have results tonight.' Shaking hands. 'The lad will come back unharmed.'

Leaving the place, Taric looked upon the sky. The bright blue was fading into darkness as the stars began to shine. His stomach, on the other hand, was groaning furiously like a hungry lion. _Endure! This is nothing_. The Knight patted his belly, taking a deep breath. He couldn't go back to a tavern and having his meal calmly while someone was hurting defenceless lives. He had to do what he must do, for the species not to fade out of existence.

Following the hunter's indications, Taric reached the residential area. The streets were silent and empty. The light came from the houses were the Knight could see the resident's silhouette. Guards were patrolling around, and by their looks, it would be a long, tedious night. With their eyes slightly closed with frowns on their faces, the guards knew tonight their luck will be catching unfortunate souls robbing or trying to break through a house.

But if the Knight could pass through them without causing any alert, tonight the lad will be in good hands coming back to the Hunter's Guild. At least it was Taric's intention to make sure no more flying squirrels will be threatened.

As the Knight kept looking on the narrow street, he noticed a house without light. Looking around the house, Taric spotted a little fur on the window's stool. Grabbing it, he saw fresh blood on the animal's skin. At first, the Knight tried to spot a clue of the squirrels but found himself looking inside on the dark window.

'What are you doing? Trying to sneak into my house!'

A voice came from his back as something sharp touched Taric's neck. 'Trying to find out if the owner has arrived.' The Knight answered.

'You must be a patrolling guard!' The voice said agitated, trying to sound threating. 'Do they nowadays break into people's house? Does our king has lost his mind?'

Calmly as if the Knight wasn't in any danger, Taric turned to face the voice. 'Do I look like a guard?' He winked.

The lad laid his knife in his pocket. Although the young man had a slim feature with a skeleton face, what was most evident was his neck. As his bloody fingers began to scratch on it, little wounds formed on his tanned like dark chocolate skin.

'No.' The young man began to scratch his neck violently like his nails were a sharp knife. 'But still, you are a stranger that wanted to be in my house for some reason.'

As the young hunter scratched more, more, and more, Taric noticed a popped out a violet vein. _Is he alright? Because of his neck…_ 'You are not to blame to sound defensive, it's understandable.' The Knight said smoothly, keeping attention to the young hunter's reaction. 'My apologies for the intrusion, but there's an important issue to be discussed. We don't need to use violence.'

However, the lad noticed the Knight glancing time at his belt with hanged dead squirrels. Taric's eyes were upset and sad as if he had lost a dear friend. 'Oh! So that's why you are here.' The lad said as a big grinned escaped his lips.

Taric had a strong feeling of danger and eerie in the air. The young hunter's lips despite being thin it was like they enlarged at that moment. Masking his huge grin, a monstrosity of a smile.

Taric wasn't intimidated. He had to try to reach to the young man's humanity. There must be something he could talk that could make the lad see his wrong.

The young hunter stared at Taric slowly, as his pupils studied the strong Knight up and down, like trying to spot something as a weakness. 'No. there's nothing to discuss it, but if it pleases you.' He opened the door. 'Come in.'

Taric smiled. 'After you.' He gestured softy.

As the Knight step inside a strong odour infiltrated the air as if the place was closed for decades, along with a stench of rotting flesh. As the lad's lighted a torch, the Knight's heart felt on the ground bleeding in pain.

The violence and carnage inside were too much to endure for weak stomachs. It was on the ceiling hanged dead flying squirrel bodies. Their skin were bloody with browsers as if they were skinned but brutally spanked alive. In some bodies, the Knight could see their organs ripped outside of their bodies like an exposable object to go to the rubbish. Moving more in the room, Taric witnessed a flying squirrel staring at him having his last breath.

'You see Knight.' The young man said. 'This is why they deserve to be tortured. They are so vulnerable that it makes me hurt them more.'

Taric ignored the young hunter as he spotted an alive flying squirrel in the middle of dead ones. Its body was twitching in horror. As the Knight rushed in its direction, the lad grabbing his knife moved to stab Taric.

By the refection in the window realising what was happening, the Knight moved of his arm, striking the young hunter with his armour as hard as he could to keep him distracted. The lad rolled on the ground groaning in severe pain.

Reaching to the animal, Taric took off the robe as the squirrel fall on his hands. The Knight taking his cape covered the animal, patting gently with care.

Taric smiled more relived. 'It's alright. I will protect you.' _He is still alive!_

Taric turned to face the young hunter that was crawling in pain like a worm in a despaired attempt to hurt the Knight again. 'You can still return to your normal life.' He said in a soft tone.

The young hunter didn't answer. And, despite all the violence and all the pain he caused to the animals; Taric found it cruel to live the young man suffering. Laying the squirrel closer to him, the Knight grabbed the young hunter's arm. The lad raised an eyebrow at the Knight bewildered, as he cringing, his teeth forced his legs to stand up.

'You still have time to fix your life.' Taric walked with the young hunter to a chair, although he knew that any second the lad could attack him since the lad didn't seem to be stable.

'But what if I don't want to return?'

'And why not?'

The lad burst, laughing hard like a maniac. 'Because my parents will force me to do something that I hate.' He faced the Knight grinning, the same malicious smile.

'Then tell me something you would like to do instead.' Taric looked sat the young hunter.

The lad showed his teeth as if the Knight asked what he was hoping for. The young hunter's eyes were focused on Taric, staring intensively like he was waiting for the Knight to be off guard.

He moved his fingers like a mage casting a spell to his belt. 'Kill. Murder. That's my future.' The lad said already with his hands on his belt.

'Don't let your heart be consumed by hate.' Taric said in a gentle tone. 'Embrace those who care about you—'

However, despite Taric's speech being full of hope, the lad, was having fun instead of taking the Knight's advise seriously. The young hunter had his lips twisted in such fashion almost as if he had an exaggerated smirk. His eyes were distorted trying to imitate an idiot, as the lad moved his fingers at the same time as Taric was speaking. _So rude! How can he treat me like this! A Knight of all people! This is a lost cause._

'Are you finished? Because I'm getting bored.' The lad asked as he scratched his neck, this time harsh.

'Stop!' Taric said, realising the lad's neck was begging to bleed.

'This doesn't hurt, Knight.' The young hunter scratched deeper on the swollen vein.

As the lad's nails penetrated deeper on the flesh, came noises of what seemed to be muscles popping out of his flesh. His neck was covered in blood like a river. And as Taric kept observing the young hunter, he didn't seem bothered by the situation. _This is one of my rare cases. He simply doesn't care. He disrespected me!_

Looking at his eyes, Taric could see that the young hunter pupils shined like any normal human eye, yet there was nothing inside, as if he was empty. Not even a teardrop or eyebrows moving down for reconciliation. Has the lad lost his soul? His dignity? No, Taric knew the answer.

This young man was evil, no more, no less. He will never show mercy, compassion and love; simple human features that could change the world and others around. This man will keep hurt everything he sees, and the Knight was convinced that his massacre with the flying squirrels was a test.

'Nothing to say, huh?' The lad grinned in an attempt to taunt the Knight that was in front of the squirrel. 'That thing will be hurt.' He pointed his dagger. 'Badly. It will feel my blade.'

'You will have to pass through me first.' Taric grabbed his hammer and shield. 'You could have shown kindness, but the instant you revealed hatred.'

The air became heavy and dark as if the sky had destroyed all the stars in the sky, no light to guide the night. They stared at each other, waiting for the moment where one of them were to make their first move. Although Taric could tell the lad wanted to start first. Grabbing his dagger and sword, the young hunter was trying his best to contain his murder instincts. However, his hands were shaking anxiously like in a flash he will begin the attack.

Taking that as his advantage, Taric titled his shield forward as he brought down his hammer firmly. Both moved aside to try to catch a weakness although the Knight decided to not move as much, trying to protect the animal since he knew any second the lad could have an idea to hurt the squirrel in front him.

Realising the Knight's tactic, the lad grinned. 'Oh? Defending a stupid creature?' He tried again to haunt the Knight to make him vulnerable; however, Taric remained calm.

'Yes, until the end.' Taric said confidently. 'I am the champion of life! Prepare to taste my wrath!'

Not resisting to wait for so long the lad moved his sword in an attempt to hurt the Knight's thigs, however, Taric defended with his hammer. The blade clashed on one other's weapons.

Stepping a little back, the lad smirked widely. The young hunter dashed towards the Knight slashing with his sword, once again Taric defended with his hammer. At that moment the lad moved his dagger against the Knight hurt thigh.

Moving his shield, Taric moved with all his strength defending himself. The lad lost his balance as the Knight bashed with his hammer forward. The young hunter rolled over the ground.

Groaning with severe pain, the lad looked at the Knight that was walking in his direction without hesitation. His eyes were focused on the lad as if at any second, he will escape. With escape in mind, the young hunter tried to grab his weapons desperately; yet Taric rolled them aside, pointing his hammer to the lad.

His eyes narrowed as his eyebrows pushed down. His lips while frowned hard, he forced a smile. 'So, what now? You captured me. Congratulations.' The lad said in a grave tone trying to sound threatening.

Taric looked around, and to his horror, a squirrel, skinned alive and currently on deaths door, he could use the rope to tie the lad's hand. He took a deep breath as the idea was too disturbing for his tastes. He looked at his cape that was protecting the animal, but it was far away from his reach, and yet he knew that was precisely what the young hunter wanted. An opportunity to kill and escape, otherwise, Taric will be a witness to his crimes.

'Not much of a talk now?' The young hunter mocked him, laughing like a maniac. 'The others will hear that I silenced a Knight.'

With pain in his heart, Taric gently untied a dead animal. Laying him on the ground. 'Ah! You will take me to that old man.' The lad said as the Knight tied up his hands. 'What has he told you? To bring to me back to that torture chamber?'

'Yes, in which that will not happen.' Taric approached. 'It was our deal to bring you alive and unharmed. However, you can't be allowed to hurt more fragile lives! That's unacceptable!'

In that same instance, there was a dark, eerie silence, as if the place became an abandoned haunted house. Like the ghosts of the squirrels would appear and get vengeance of the lad's actions. However, the squirrel on the cape got out and ran outside of the house.

'What makes you think when the old man founds me alive things will change?' The lad asked. 'Do you truly believe he will make me better? That everything I have accomplished will be forgotten? That the king will forgive me?'

The place started to become cold like ice, and even well-protected Taric felt his body trembling. His teeth cringed as if he was chewing ice. He looked around, but nothing was found, only a horrible carnage of dead animals.

'With you? Nothing will change.' Taric looked down on the young hunter as if the Knight was more prominent. _What is this? As I have heard from a guard on an investigation, the mageseekers could classify this as a mage trick._

'That's correct.' The young hunter said, hugging himself. 'The enjoyment of killing them was great! The adrenaline on my hands we unstoppable.'

'This means, whatever happens, you are in trouble.' Taric hugged himself as a confident smile escaped his lips. 'You have nowhere to run. Your soul is already fated. And since you will die by my hands, be grateful that your death will be merciful.'

'Merciful? How kind of you, Knight.' The young hunter said in a scornful tone.

Whatever it was happening in the room, it was determined that the place will collapse in cold and death. The Knight tried to reach the lad's heart with kindness and compassion, and that wasn't enough. He wanted to make him see how important it was to change for good, yet the young hunter refused to chance. The young hunter was immoral, Taric found no solution but to kill him.

Titus will be mad knowing the lad was killed instead of being brought for justice according to his Guild laws, however, Taric couldn't let more pain to the poor creatures at danger. These delicate lives that deserve nothing more but left in peace.

'So, how will my death? be' The young hunter asked.

'You aren't in a position to speak highly.' Taric pointed out, as he pushed his hair back. 'Be ready to face the Protector. And thank her for being me who judged you.'

The young hunter laughed. 'Why? Is this some kind of joke?'

'You will receive a merciful death despite all the horror you have done.' Taric said.

'What you call mercy is nothing more than an excuse for you to be proud of yourself.' The young hunter observed the Knight listening to him carefully. 'What you truly desire is for the others to glorify you.'

As Taric raised his eyebrows in surprise, a chuckle escaped his mouth. 'My men knows my methods are flawless, allowing me to solve the problems easily.'

'You are just like others.' The young hunter said as the Knight gave him a glance, not furious or angry, preferably a proud one. 'A Knight full of himself that thinks he's perfect—'

'You really have no idea what kind of punishment you will receive if you were with the mages instant, or with the king's guards.' Taric said more in a way to shut the lad down.

'Do you think I'm that naïve?' The young hunter asked as his eyes meet the Knight's ones. 'The king will push my body to the limits with all his favourite instruments, which are my type.'

'And the mages will torture you with their horrific methods.' Taric finished the lad's thoughts.

'At the end being killed by you, the mages, king's guards or the hunters matters nothing.'

For a moment, silence spoke in the room, as the cold had taken the Knight's and the young hunter's voice out of their throats.

'Before you have your last breath, I would like to ask you something.'

'And after that comes the torture. My favourite part!'

'Who turned you like this? A demon? A mage?' Taric asked, looking for something sharp around the place.

'Maybe he was both? Or none?' The lad answered. 'One thing was clear his voice.' The young hunter observed Taric grabbing a knife. 'He sounded much like my father… like a true friend.'

'If what you call a friend is someone that encourages you to kill,' Taric approached looking to the knife. 'Then you are a delusional young man.' The Knight looked at the lad. 'He deceived you—'

'On the contrary he made me see my true propose.' The young hunter cut it the Knight.

'Can you describe him for me?' Taric asked, holding the knife.

'No.' The lad said. 'There's nothing to describe. Only his truthful voice of reason and wisdom.'

The young hunter was calm like the ocean and serene as if he was listening to a sweet song despite the cold air inside. For Taric surprise the lad was telling the truth, at, least to some degree. He sounded frank and very determined to do whatever the creature or man told him.

'Do you want to say anything before you die?' Taric asked, looking at the lad fat vein that was ready to explode.

'That's where you have to strike me, Knight.' The young hunter said. 'You can see it, can't you?'

Taric opened his eyes surprised. 'How? Who told you this?'

The lad laughed. 'He told me you will see the sign. That you, with time, will realise that with desire, everything is possible.'

Taric could feel his body becoming paralysed by the cold. His fingers were numb as if he couldn't 't feel them anymore. Holding the lad's head with care, the Knight held the knife. A little hesitant, he tried to make some sense on his mind that it was wrong to kill. However, everything was in place, and the lad didn't show remorse for his actions.

It has to be done. He must die in the name of life. Holding the knife firmly Taric made a deep cut. Their vein opened wildly as its muscles moved in a desperate attempt to have a little air. Observing that the lad didn't make an attempt to escape, the Knight craved the knife's blade on the big vein.

The young hunter could scream of horror and pain; however, he was enduring all of it like a valiant Knight in battle. Blood ran on the large vein reaching Taric hands. The Knight observed the lad's last breath.

The young hunter shivered several times if death hadn't arrived to take him to the other side like he was resisting his time to depart from the living world. And, as if the end had touched him, the young hunter breathed out finally for the last time.

Taric let the knife fall on the ground, as he was feeling airless and less cold. He felt the air becoming breathable and returning to its average temperature. He looked at the door to see if someone was getting inside.

_You had the opportunity to change._ Taric grabbed the death lad, wrapping his body with his cape. _But you decided to remain wicked._

As Taric entered the guild, everyone looked immediately at the young death hunter. Despite the silence and disappointed looks in the room, the Knight could hear their whispers. 'The boss will not like this.' A woman shook her head. 'Aye. He will go mad.' A man said nodding in agreement. 'He promised to bring the lad back! He broke his vow!'

Yet, despite all misunderstood of the situation, Taric limited himself smiling at them receiving in return frowns and faces in disapproval.

Straighten his posture as he held the young hunter's body on his arms, Taric knock on the door.

'Open the door already.' Said a hunter, getting up from his chair.

The silence was made as Taric did what it was told. Titus was on his secretary, holding his hands in deep thought. He had a massive, serious expression on his face like he will receive bad news ahead. He twitched his moustache more in an attempt to find comfort.

'Good evening Titus.' Taric closed the door.

The hunger raised his head, staring intensively at the Knight. If his face could speak it defiantly will be very unpleasant, almost as if he would like to kill the Knight instantly.

'I can explain—'

'How?'

'You were right, the lad was a murder.' Taric said in a smooth tone, laying the young hunter corpse on the ground gently. 'He was a lost cause. Sorry to bring you bad news.'

The hunter got up in flames. Taking a deep angry breath, his lips twitched hard along with his moustache. 'It was ordered for you to bring him back alive. You even promised me that he will be here unharmed!' Then Titus stared like mad at the Knight. 'I trusted you!'

Taric remained calm despite all agitated vibes in the room. 'The lad could be here if he didn't have killed all those poor creatures—'

'So, is it more important for you to break your vow than do your job? Knight?' Titus asked, clearly upset.

Taric sighed. 'We can discuss this situation—'

'There's nothing to discuss.' Titus held his tankard firmly like he contained his anger. 'A duty was given you, and you decided it was a good idea to ignore it.'

Sitting on one the chair, Taric crossed one leg as he moved his hand on his knee. 'Titus, I tried to reach lad's humanity several times, but there was nothing in him, only malice and lack of empathy.'

'Even so—' Titus glanced at the corpse at the ground. 'That was no excuse for you to do what you please.'

'But someone like that is dangerous to have out there.' Taric moved his fingers like a wave on his knee.

Titus said if the words he pronounced were challenging to elaborate. 'Ser Taric.' He took a deep angry breath. 'In my establishment, we have our own methods to deal with this kind of situation, this wasn't the first time.'

_Clearly, he isn't aware of the situation. Did he know the lad at all? _'One question Titus.' Annoyed the hunter gestured his hands more on the way to the Knight make him speak fast. 'Did you meet the young man at all? Do you know how really drives him to live?'

'What if we all do? Is that another of your excuses to make things that were asked of you at your way?'

Taric chuckled surprised by how the hunter could be so blind and naïve. This only means Titus didn't know the lad at all. Perhaps he just left the lad to make his application, teaching him the basics and then let him freely murder the animals.

'Which means you never knew him.' Taric said confidently glancing at the hunter that had his eyes on the corpse.

Titus stared intensively at the Knight as he moved his hands together. 'The rank that was given to you should have been placed with someone more dedicated. You are—'

'The perfect man for the job.' Taric said with a smile on his face. 'Which unfortunately didn't end up as we had agreed.'

Titus glanced for the last time to the corpse, then he faced the Knight. 'Let me see his body before your father knows what his son has done.'

Getting up from his chair, Taric uncovered the dead body. As Titus asked an eye on the lad's dead body, his face froze of rage. As his cheeks painted red, his eyes widely opened as if his orbs will be popped out of his face. His moustache's hair was grown wild like an angry cat.

Titus glared at the Knight. 'Get out.' His voice was deep and

_The vein didn't go away, yet_. 'He still has it.' Taric pointed at lad's neck. 'Can't you see? His bobbled—'

'Get out you worthless Knight!' Titus held with anger. 'How dare you to choose who dies or lives!'

Titus has breathing heavily as if he was having difficulty to have air, while he closed his fists to make sure Taric could still be alive. The Knight felt the ambience becoming hostile rather than welcoming like the room had a spell. Courteously Taric nodded and walked to the door silently. The lad was too evil to listen to anyone. _Nothing could be done. One day he will realise this._

'Your king deserves better than this.' Titus warned him. 'I pray that the Protector never shield you, and at your hour when you must need to be healed, may the Veiled Lady never bring your soul to rest.'

As if the hunter had said nothing, Taric smiled, leaving the place. The sky was transforming in a turmoil of dark colours fighting each other to the sun gradually felt to sleep. Let's see our little friend. Taric ran to the Illumninator's temple.

It was silent as no living soul was inside. Yet, someone was closer to the Protector's figure. An acolyte was replacing new candles and lighting them, while she murmured names and prayers.

'Excuse me—' Taric approached.

The young woman turned. 'Yes? Is to place a candle for you, Sir?'

Taric shook his head. 'Is the Hight priest here?'

She nodded. 'He is in his office,' pointing to the door.

Walking on the corridors, some acolytes dressed in a long white robe and a symbol of three points half of a star, greet him. Taric reached to the high priest office.

Despite the small space, everything was tidy up. Behind, there's a broad picture of a man with the same white ropes as the priest. Even though his face couldn't be seen clearly, one thing was highlighted. His eyes reflected peace and tranquillity, although it seemed sadness and sorrow crossed together. The founder of the organization. _He must have seen so much in his life._

Bookshelves full of books were closer to the open window. There was a wooden closed-chest, near a small table. Above it, a jar with water was together with a small bowl with clean towels, and a pair of blocks of sops.

On the secretary, was the priest checking scrolls. The candles wax on dripped out of the golden candlestick, at the table's corner. At the opposite side of the table, was the squirrel with new bandages, sleeping on Taric's cape.

'May I come in?' Taric knocked on the door.

'Yes, please.' The priest laid a scroll on a box. As Taric came inside, the animal's ears twitched by his steeps. 'There. Your friend was very agitated. Maybe it was waiting for you.'

Taric grabbed the animal on his hands, feeling on his chest its tiny fingers. As he laid the cap on his legs, the squirrel rolled back to its sleep.

Taric smiled. 'Thank you for your help.'

The old man nodded. 'We could help the little fellow. Although, not completely.'

Taric's smile vanished slowly. 'What, exactly?' as his voice spoke with extreme concern.

The priest laid another page on the box. 'We managed its fingers. In a pair of three or four days, it will be healed completely.' His eyes looked to the Knight. 'But unfortunately, your friend will lose its arboreal highways. Sorry about the bad news.'

A feeling of guilt and remorse crossed Taric's heart. The image of the animal in the cage didn't leave his mind. How painful must have been for the squirrel to suffer such cruel fate? Why did it have to go through that trauma?

'This case is done. These creatures are safe from danger.' Taric petted the animal's tail gently.

'The Veiled Lady was merciful.' Laying the rest of the scrolls, the priest looked to the Knight. 'You look miserable.'

'Don't concern yourself with that,' Taric's voice became gentle. 'It was discovered who did this to the squirrels. Couldn't stop my investigation.'

'Of course, still, even the bravest knight must have his time to rest.' The priest said. 'Come. Let me give you something for you to fill your stomach.'

They walked in the corridors, as some more acolytes passed by them, greeting with smiles. After passing through from an arch, they reached a small place. A long table with a jar of daisies, where bowls were laid. An overweight lady was lighting the candles on the middle of the table.

As she realised their presence, she walked to a door next to a blue banner with three half points star symbol, on the white walls. After waiting for a couple of minutes, the lady came with a bowl on a tray.

Not the most elaborate presentation, although Taric knew this place wasn't for any royalties. In his bowl, brown bread was placed next to mashed pies and three boiled eggs. In his food, he spotted a dark green liquid. On the table glass with a jar of red wine.

The priest smiled. 'Enjoy your meal.'

Carefully, Taric separated the eggs to mix the rest properly. A dark greenish colour formed on his bowl. Splitting the bread, a half, Taric grabbed a little of his mashed peas and placed an egg.

With his right hand, he chewed his food. The fresh herbs whirled in Taric's mouth, along with stock, sorrel and salt. _Charming_. The Knight smiled satisfied by the simplicity yet tasty meal.

'We really appreciate that you have been brought wounded animals.' The priest said as the Knight gave a sip of his wine. 'However, this will be the last time.'

'Why?'

'Sir Taric, you bring almost every single day new animals. Don't get me wrong it is nice once on a while, but almost every day is too much.'

'Too much is it? Does this mean that they don't deserve your attention anymore? Are you tired?'

'You have to understand Sir Taric that we are swamped—'

'And so am I training to make sure these poor creatures don't get in danger.' Taric cut the priest out. 'But do you see me around ignoring the situation?'

The priest looked with narrowed eyes in discontent. 'Look Sir Taric.' The old man took a deep breath, holding his hands firmly. 'It's perfectly normal to protect animals. However, more importantly, your king and your commanders need your assistance. And very recently there are rumours that a mage is hidden in the city ready to strike.'

Taric laughed. 'You are wrong.' Grabbing the spoon with food, the Knight chewed his meal. 'My men are powerful and capable of fighting themselves. Why do I need to help them in the first place?'

The priest looked in total shock. 'Surely you didn't mean that!'

'You have known me all this time. There's no way that you will be caught me lying. It's not me.' Taric winked. 'They train every day physically, weapon and duty wise. No doubt they will defend the king and the country with pride and honour.'

The priest's lips moved down like a grumpy grandfather that listened to his grandson lousy behaviour. 'This is unbelievable. So, what they said was true.'

'Who said it? And what they have said it?' Taric gave another sip.

'The rumours surrounding about you,' the priest took another deep breath as if what he will about to say was difficult to talk. 'Sir Taric.'

Taric patted the priest shoulders friendly as a smile escaped his lips. However, the priest reaction wasn't the happiest of all. His eyes aren't calm and kind anymore but rather austere in which reminded Knight's his father.

The old man pushed away Taric hands in an unpleasant manner. 'If your father would hear that, he will be very disappointed.' The priest pointed out in protest.

'But is it wrong? They are good soldiers—'

'On the contrary of you, Sir Taric, they are committed to their duty! They will sacrifice and die for their king and country—'

'As do I.' Taric finished his meal, as he gave the last ship. 'The royal family knows they can count on my protection.'

'Not with that attitude.' The priest said. 'For your best interest reflect on what you said. For your family's sake. For your own good and for Demacia.'

'My belly is full. The dinner was delicious.' Taric got up. They are all wrong. One day they will see. 'Thank you for your good service to my little friend.' Taric winked.

The priest stared at the Knight, not pleased. 'Are you mocking me, Sir Taric?'

'Me? Never.' Taric patted the priest's shoulders. 'And do not listen to what others say. It's all big jealously of my rank.'

As the Knight walked to the corridor, the priest passed through Taric. 'This is going to be your last day here, Sir Taric. The others are right. You are the wrong one. Seek guidance. Look at Her blessing to help your path.'

Instead of responding back Taric founded useless the effort, so he limited himself to wink friendly, as he reached to the nave's temple. Some people were inside sitting on the benches. Not just soldiers or generals but merchants, folks and the majority poor people.

The Protector statue was surrounded with daisies at her feet, far away from all the candles, which some people were lying. _They may not accept you, but you will have my protection. _Taric sat on a bench, laying the animal on his thighs. _Sadly, you lost your ability to fly, but now you are safe warm. The response is no longer here to torment your kind._ Taric opened Ezreal's journal.

The priest sat on a bench close to a group of a mother with her four children. As they saw him, they tried to mess with his white ropes. However, their mother, with her face red, pushed their belts in an attempt to control their behaviour. After all, they were in the presence of their Guardian.

The priest kindly, shook his head, gesturing her to leave her children wondering the place before the show could start. The mother lowered her head, as her body shivered like as sinner ready to confess the crimes. The priest patted her shoulder gently, listening to her laments.

As Taric is about to read Ezreal's journal in deep, the acolyte finished the arrangements on the temple. Another group of wooded acolytes dressed in white walked to the altar. On that instant, all the noises coming from people vanished like the wind. Those who were up to contemplate Her grace sat in silence.

_Life is a mystery. A beauty that none of us will ever understand. _Taric patted the sleepy squirrel's fur gently. Organising on the altar the acolytes looked the big crowd on the temple, they started singing.

_As a champion of life, my curiosity will never end to understand the beauty and grace of it. My soul will commit to research any meaning of it. _In harmony with the angelic voices glorifying the Protector, Taric began reading the adventurer's journal.

_This is my oath._


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Notes_:

Hello, everyone!

Thank you, beta readers, so much for your help and patience. :) And thank you guys for wanting to read the rest of the story, as I am having fun writing it. This chapter is a bit long, so I hope you guys don't mind. XD

**WARNING**: in this chapter, it will contain descriptions of violence and an attempt of sexual assault. You have been warned.

* * *

**Chapter II**

After walking in the vast vegetation for half an hour, Jarro reached Demacia. It wasn't his first time in the country.

He had visited before because of some peculiar treasures he wanted to study, so later he could add to his collection.

As he stepped inside the city, he glanced at the shadows inside of the windows on the residential area. Noises came from citizens returning to their homes, and massive steps from the guards patrolling in the streets.

Reaching the market place, almost empty, there was still merchants getting ready to grab their merchandise and have a rest. From time to time, dogs and cats passed by stopping, each time closer to the merchants as a way to ask them for leftovers.

Walking in the calm and shining night; Jarro spotted an inn. Leaving the place, came from the door, drunk people singing as they hugged each other in an attempt to stay balanced. As Jarro opened the door of the inn, the adventurer startled, jumping back. Like a typhoon, children ran outside energetically, while their mothers yelled them to behave.

Coming inside the adventurer felt warm by the torches held on simple carvings coming from the corners of the place. On the wall, a tapestry of what seemed to be the king hang. With his sword raised, he together with his men fought against figures of dark armour. Jarro recognised by the design of the armour for being Noxian. However, the majority of stuff on walls were ceramic with simple carvings of blue and gold.

On the ground a blue carpet sewed with golden and white designs lay, which also extended to the next area. On the left side, there were stairs where an old couple was walking up. Leading Jarro into concluding that upstairs, the establishment had its resting area.

There weren't many costumers at the tables. Soldiers taking their last sip of wine, and a small group of hunters leaving tips ready to leave the place.

Jarro approached the counter. 'Evening.' He leaned forward.

Below the tapestry, there was a closed cabinet, in which it was written with demacian calligraphy 'keys' on a sign.

An old man righted his glasses, leaning his head forward to better see the young man. 'Ah, lad! Welcome back.'

'The keys to my bedroom?' Jarro asked.

'Right, right.' The old man turned his back, opening the cabinet full of keys. 'Here. Take it.'

'One last thing.'

'Aye?'

'Could you give me a paper and a pencil?'

The old man checked on his counter below. 'Well… you can have half of the paper. We are running out—'

'That will do.' Jarro nodded, standing his hand to receive the items.

The owner placed the key, paper and pencil on the counter. Grabbing them, Jarro stepped up to the bedrooms area. He could feel the softness from the blue carpet. There were well-planted daisies displayed on the walls, giving a gentle fragrance in the air.

Opening one door, Jarro walked to his simple yet comfy bed. As it was expected from Demacia, the interior was simple with soft colours as it was around the city, white walls and blue curtains. Next to his bed, it was a side table with a candle, and near the window a wardrobe.

**'Got any idea where it is?'** Ne'Zuk asked.

'This is easy.' Grabbing the small parch of paper and the pencil, Jarro made a draw of the place according to the map in the cave. Then, he circled a residential area with a pen. 'We will have to walk a little from here, avoid some trouble and then.' The adventurer made some dashed lines, 'when we reach these houses,' making some more,' we have to cross this intersection, and this is our destination.' Finishing with a circle on an elaborated entrance with circular shapes like wings.

**'Ah! You mean The Grand Plaza place.'** Ne'Zuk exclaimed. **'That's the place we should start to search.'**

Jarro nodded. 'See? You got it.' As he peeked on the window, pulling a little the closed curtains. 'Now, time for the exciting part, action.'

**'Kid… don't you think we should plan?'** Ne'Zuk asked, clearly upset. **'Because you will encounter—'**

'Why? Are you afraid that you may feel Demacia's might against you?' Jarro said in a tone as to test the Voice's patience. 'You have me! Me! Got it?' Opening the window, he calculated the height down from his floor. _Ah! It's too high. Damn!_

**'By the Ascendant!'** Ne'Zuk's voice became deep with fury. **'Has it occurred to you that there will be guards in my way? Trying to stop me?'**

_This is so amusing! Mocking this idiot_. 'Tsk... what do you take me for?' Already outside, Jarro climbed to the rooftop. 'You have the best, intelligent and smartest explorer you could ever imagine. So, stop barking and let's grab the map.'

**'If you die tonight—'**As Ne' Zuk was about to explode of anger.

'It will be your responsibility.' Jarro cut the Voice, as he listened to a dog barking nearby. 'You will not have the map and guess what will happen next—'

**'You don't need to remind me of that, kid.'** Ne'Zuk answered, clearly irritated.

'No? You are always looking down on me.' Jarro said it in a tone more reminiscent of mockery, than that of one which inspired hostility. 'So, it would be logical you wanted to get rid of me soon.'

**'On the contrary. You are needed.'** Ne'Zuk said.

_Of course, I am, and you know that._ The streets were silent like a ghost town. The adventurer felt that it was safe to walk since no guards were patrolling that area, so he passed by some houses, and shops until he reached the market place.

Peeping between two houses, he spotted a group of guards patrolling the area. Jarro rubbed his gauntlet_. Right, time to shine tonight!_

In the shadows, he stared to observing their patrol routine. The group of this area was constituted of four guards. Two of them got separated and started circulating the area while the other two left the area. Jarro looked to the other streets nearby, all with the same structure except one; a fifth path closer to a shop of flowers. That way was his only solution to get closer to the king's palace.

And so, the guards walked on, scanning any corners and suspicious movement. Jarro looked up. The houses were straightforward to climb; however, the full moon's light would be an alarm for the guards to spot him. _Hmm…_ as the guards got closer to the adventurer's street, the light coming from their torches flashed past the corner. Immediately he hid.

As the light slowly faded away from the corner, something popped on Jarro's mind. While the guards patrol the area, he could stay at their back, sneaking to reach closer to the shop. This was a great idea and Jarro was proud of it.

And so, he sneaked on their backs, avoiding any light possible. Although, as the guards and Jarro were going to approach the shop, the shadows in the closest corner walked in their direction. In that second, his heart bounced faster like a train on rails, pushing its machine hard to move more quickly.

'They are here.' A bold guard said, moving the torch to the narrow street.

Looking to the only way out, Jarro moved silently to the flowers shop as the guards distracted, kept looking to the corner. The adventurer sneaked, step by step, not taking his eyes off the guards, smiling as Demacia belonged only to him with his juvenile heart exploding of excitement that perhaps at any moment—

'There!' a voice shouted. 'Someone's there!'

_Well… here it comes. _Heavy steps could be heard getting closer, as Jarro aimed his gauntlet. Teleporting to the location, he climbed to a balcony of a house nearby. In that same second, four guards moved their torches around suspicious.

'Are you sure?' One guard without an arm asked.

'Of course! It was a lad—'

'How was he dressed? How was he like?' Asked another guard with an eye patch.

'Not sure. I was too far to see the details.'

Observing the guards walking away, Jarro looked to the street. _This is perfect. _Climbing down from the balcony, the adventurer spotted tall shadows walking on his direction, _or maybe—_

And now that he observed clearly his surroundings, in the street, there were no alleys for him to cover. No shadows to hide his presence. Only a feeling of thrill in a familiar place, where Jarro could discover even more secret places that couldn't meet any Demacian eyes.

Listening to the guard's steps, little-by-little, echoing on the paved rocky path in the street; was enough for him to take advance of their situation. Climbing up to the roofs, Jarro quickly jumped to avoid their detection. _Well… this can be my cover_. The adventurer examined the distances between chimneys with a satisfying answer, as the full moon couldn't proudly show his silhouette to the authorities.

And now that the guards were closer, he could test it in action. The flames glared in warning to house to house, as the guards glanced everywhere like their eyes were some kind of machines alarm trigger. Jarro aimed his glove roof to roof, successfully avoiding the guards, although, there were more.

As he laid on a chimney, a deep snoring voice echoed down. A guard standing on a house, with his arms crossed and his helm closing his eyes. The man couldn't help, but to leave his dreams taking over his tired mind and body. _Perfect!_ If he could spot more guards sleeping, or even making them tired, that could be good to create his path to grab map easier this night.

Successfully he passed through more patrolling guards, even those who brought with them torches. And more seemed to be sleeping or closing their eyes.

After he jumped roof after roof, he finally reached the street. A part of the city where the patrolling was intensified. Each guard were standing still. They didn't move a muscle, but their eyes were like a clock's needle always moving right and left. And judging by their heavy armour, it was that simple detail that Jarro didn't desire to confront.

Although in the end, he will win in terms of dexterity, however, their armour was tough like steel and rough like a rock. Furthermore, the adventurer will have another problem. It was believed, each Demacian armour was infused with petricite, which could be a problem for the adventurer to deal with his magical gauntlet.

**'What do you think of this, boy?'** Ne'Zuk asked as a group of three guards nodded to a guard patrolling a narrow street.

'You mean the patrolling of this area?' Jarro observed the guards walking around the place. No breaks on their routine. No flaws that he could detect on their patrol. After all, they were guarding the most crucial area of Demacia. 'Pft… That's a piece of cake,' moving his hand assertively like a prince planning a big assault to all kingdom.

**'It seems you didn't find anything.'** Ne'Zuk said in a pointed tone. **'Instant of—'**

'Oh, shush you!' Ezreal leaned forward. 'Glorify me instead.'

**'You wish, boy!'** Ne' Zuk hissed in a mixture of malevolence and anger.

'Eheh… admit it.' Ezreal glanced at a house close by. 'The map will be in our hands. And when that big moment happens, we will leave this country.' And then to the path. 'Then you will say, I was right. As always I have been.'

**'The only good thing you have is to have me in the first place.'** Ne'Zuk said as a reminder like the adventurer had forgotten his existence.

The security would be hard to break through, although Jarro suspected that could be the case. Although, with his experience discovering what hides from the ordinary people, the adventurer knew what he could expect. He closed his fists determined. The map was waiting for him for so long, like a son waiting for his father's return.

**'What are you thinking, kid?'**

'Ehehe…' Jarro aimed at a house. 'Give me enough energy, because we will perform the most spectacular entrance ever in your life.'

Jarro's eyes followed the group of guards that passed through the same street as he was. As their back faced him, the adventure's gauntlet full recharged teleported him to a roof of the next home. As he jumped several houses, he reached to the location.

A massive circular fortress was in front of the adventurer, as he could glance up archers patrolling along with two lancers. At distant, he found cracks with enough holes for him to climb. _Right, let's use that to get inside._

As he jumped from a tree, aiming his gauntlet, Jarro was teleported to the hall. Using the cracks to get the balance the adventurer climbed up. Giving a peek an archer with the company of two lancers walked in a distance at a patrolling pace. As Jarro waited for the guard to pass through, he jumped inside following the guard silently.

They walked downwards on a tower until the adventurer hid in the shadows closer to the stairs. After the guard closed the door, the adventurer waited for him to leave. Then, Jarro stepped outside of the door.

At every corner, like the carved petricite statues were alive, it was a show of dedication and honour to every Demacian in the city. Proud of their military duty to fight against magic, corruption and injustice. However, despite all the patronising military messages, Jarro couldn't deny another detail despite not being his tastes.

The Lightshield's garden was like a walking paradise on earth. Every flower was like contemplating a painting in real life, each tree and grass were distributed around the area, like an actual maze in harmony with the marble benches and statues of soldiers. This area, as Jarro knew, was considered for noble families.

_It wouldn't surprise me if the dungeon remained in the castle. If I walk straight to the garden there's a possible change, the guards will spot me in no time._ He looked to a group of two guards chatting in the middle of the pathway, laughing so hard that Jarro could swear one of them will fall of laughter.

_However_, the adventurer looked to the dense labyrinth of trees, grass and statues; that is my only choice at this point. _With my gauntlet's power and jumps, it should be safe._

Jarro peeped at the door as the guards turned their backs. Looking at the vast maze bushes, he sneaked to a column. As nobody seemed not to have noticed his presence, walking in a reasonable distance, Jarro aimed his gauntlet.

**'What are you doing!'** Ne'Zuk yelled furiously.

'Err… thought it was obvious?!' Jarro hid on a shadow of the bush.

**'It is, it's just your action is—'** Ne' Zuk cut himself. **'You know what? Never mind. Not my problem if you get caught and die.'** The Voice said in a noncommittal tone.

'Oh, really?' Jarro crossed his arms as he wiggled his eyebrows. 'In that case, yes, your host will be caught. Because let's face it,' he shrugged. 'You are in a country that if they found I have magical potential; they will destroy you.'

**'That's the last thing you will not dare to do!'** Ne'Zuk whooped in a fury. **'Show respect for the Shurima emperor!'**

'Come now.' Jarro patted his gauntlet like he was touching a dog. 'No need to be mad. You chose me, remember? You choose the best.'

**'The best? Kid, in my life many before had—'** Ne' Zuk made a brief moment of silence, then he said. **'You are the one who could contrast with many. So yes, you are one good mage out there.'**

'Good, good.' _Geez, he can be really annoying. But at least now he is tamed._ Jarro touched the soft leaves of the grass. 'Don't shine for now. Let me climb this first.'

Raising his hands and pushing his body up, Jarro climbed the bush.

'Hey!' A guard shook another.

'What?'

'Something's there!'

On that instant, Jarro infiltrated on the maze, as the guards ran to inspect the strange shadow they had spotted. The adventurer stepped back as the guard's blades penetrated the grass. Quietly. Silently. Step by step, Jarro followed the only one path he had at his sigh always in the shadows.

As he kept going on his left, Jarro saw a pathway to turn right. However, as like any mazes before, the path became short enough for him to turn left again.

_Argh! This is boring. There's no time to play labyrinth games._ _It will take me hours_. After a zig-zag pathway, Jarro saw himself almost exposed to the royal guards. In front of him was a guardian statue, kneeled holding his sword with its cape floating in such a devoted position as if the figure was patronizing his country and duty.

**'That's not the way,'** Ne' Zuk protested.

'It's obvious, isn't it?' Jarro said as he turned back to his original position. 'But… as usual, as good as I am, there's always a away.' He looked to his gauntlet.

**'Kid, don't you think that will cause the guards to be suspicious of you?'** Ne'Zuk said seriously, like a father trying to warn the son of his failures.

'Not necessary.' Jarro aimed to another bush. 'They may suspect that a shadow, a thief or better yet a mage, which isn't a lie, infiltrated their castle. But they will never suspect it to be the best explorer of Runeterra. Trust me.'

**'So, your plan, if am I assuming right, is to make holes in the bushes so you will not waste time. Correct?'** Ne' Zuk asked thoughtfully, as he was planning with the adventurer to break into a bank.

'Ahah! We are getting smarter.' Jarro answered with a mocking tone. 'Yes. That's it. Just don't show yourself like a beacon, yes? That's the last thing we need right now.'

**'Leave that to me, boy.'** Ne'Zuk said, utterly joyful.

As was requested by the adventurer, his gauntlet already charged, shot small magical energy to the bush. Passing through the hole, Jarro recognized the pathway that led him to the dead end. Satisfied with his plan, he processed to do the same until he could find a way out the maze.

After several minutes of cutting bushes with his gauntlet, suddenly, Jarro saw an opening. By heavy sounds on the grass, the adventurer assumed to be the place where Demacian citizens gathered together to see the king, behind the giant white wing shape hide the so-called The Grand Plaza.

With his gauntlet, the adventurer made a small hole, enough for him to escape.

As a group of guards was patrolling the place, Jarro aimed his gauntlet and was teleported to a shadow of a tall fortress. Watching the guards passing through made his heart pound with excitement.

Passing through the fortress from another group of guards, Jarro hid on a column shadow.

A massive white construction was in front of the adventurer as of at any moment it will crush him. The two giant knights holding their sword stared at Ezreal like at any moment they will come out of the petricite and defend their territory. From their shoulders emerged an oval shape, linked with detailed carvings of circular and spiked details reminding the adventurer old battles. A form like opened wings was supported it as a column of another warrior rising a shield. Jarro knew if he passed the gates, he would have the privilege to meet the King's castle, the hugest building of all the country.

At the centre of the place which the adventurer assumed where the folks will see their majesty, four guardians were carved, holding their shields as if the king will give them a prestigious title. And atop, a sapphire was suspended.

**'This is—'**

'Something isn't it? Demacians know how to… err…intimidate their foes.'

**'That's because they never visited Shurima in its great glory, kid.'** Ne'Zuk said. **'But there's a task ahead, so get inside and grab my map.'**

With his chest full like a confident prince, Jarro smirked utterly satisfied. 'Together, we will say hello to the royal family, steal the map and leave this place as soon as possible.'

At the entrance by the guard's elaborated and heavy armour, the adventurer concluded to be the elite royal guards. And their looks the adventurer will have to be cautious around; otherwise, he may face punishment or lousy luck dead. Yet, Jarro had another idea on his sleeve.

'This was to be expected.' Ezreal said glancing at the fortress. _Where is a place for me to go in? Well if there's none no big deal._

**'What in the name of Shurima are you thinking now?'** Ne'Zuk asked. **'If you think at all, sometimes you are just and stu—'**

'We will go in, and that's my final decision.' Jarro cut the Voice.

**'Are you insane?'** Ne'Zuk cried out loud on the adventurer's head like a siren**. 'The guards will spot you!'**

'Geez, can you just shut up!' Jarro exclaimed annoyed, as he held his head. Guards at entrance spotted a group of three passing by, they greet each other with respect. 'We will have the map in our hands. We will leave this place in one piece. Sounds a good deal for you?'

**'Only if you have a plan at all, kid.'** Ne'Zuk said infuriated.

'Tsk… you worry too much when you have me.' Jarro said in a haughty tone as he sneaked between in the garden.

Despite the limitation of his view, he could calculate his possibilities of escape. Forward of the maze was the fortress closed massive gate, which was guarded along with arches on the towers. Jarro had two options to break in the king's castle.

The first was climbing the fortress so he could find a tower for him to infiltrate inside, and find the door to the dungeon. Although there was a problem. The full moon's light was in the guard's favour, and that will help the archers to spot him at the distant.

The second was to create more holes, big ones, so the guards could be distracted. With that, Jarro could climb the fortress, go inside the castle and find his treasure. At first, it seemed a good idea. However, the archers will spot a big magic light coming from the maze, and that was already a problem.

**'Disappointed, kid?'** Ne'Zuk asked in a sneering tone. **'Too hard for you?'**

'Oh, come on,' _it seems the first option is the best so far._ 'We have been far worse than this. Even a Piltover child will figure this out.' Jarro said, looking to the possible spots to his new entry.

**'Well… what are you waiting for?'**

'To find a secret entrance.' Jarro tiptoed along with the tall bush. 'Which will be that one,' pointing to an intersection.

**'You want a big hole this time?'**

Jarro nodded. 'Let me check our possible entry points.'

Reaching it, as the adventurer made a small hole, he could spot a tower that could be used as cover, and no guards were patrolling at the moment. The only problem was the light from the moon.

_Eheh. Not even Jarvan IV will ever guess who's breaking his castle. Me, of course! And this should be enough to make people jealous. My uncle, for example._ Jarro aimed the gauntlet making a hole enough form him to pass through.

Teleporting to the tower's hall, Jarro climbed the wall, as he found some small indents on the petricite stone to make it easier to climb. As he reached the top, Jarro took refuge in the shadow of a statue.

He had to run to reach another statue, for him to hide again; yet he knew at the advance that archers will be an eye on him. Jarro's heartfelt a burning inside, like flames spreading in his chest, of such enthusiasm of the dangerous situation. Flexing his legs, aiming the gauntlet forward, the adventurer is teleported to the path.

Running like a madman, Jarro moved his body fast as he could. As he was approaching the tower walls, several arrows shot in his direction, luckily his gauntlet saved him from possible death. As the adventurer leaned to the wall, the arrows stopped firing.

Jarro repeated the same action as he did with the other tower. As he sat down to take a rest, something was flying in the air. At first, it resembled a giant bird, but as the figure scouted closer to the area, _Demacian raptors! Known to be on military service of the country, they scout and harass enemy lines. I don't want to be caught by that thing's claws; it will be unpleasant._

The creature laid on the tower. A raptor knight of what seemed to be heavy armour was mounting the beast. The knight with his covered face pushed the raptor's head gently to scout around. As the creature moved its sharp claws, the knight moved his long spear.

Jarro felt the adrenaline rising as if the creature will approach his location. Moving to the corner of the statue, the raptor looked at the shadows, as the adventurer moved to the opposite side, waiting for the creature and its raider to go away.

However instead, the raptor moved to the other side, forcing the adventurer coming back to his initial position. Without a clue, the knight pulled up the creature, ordering to go back to the skies. The raptor making a wild noise, fleet back scouting the place again.

'That was close.' Jarro glanced at the sky, watching the knight raptor disappear towards the heavens.

On that second, Jarro ran the direction of a giant rock again, as he reached it, he climbed, continually looking for any raptor on the area.

As he climbed up the massive rock, he noticed that this rock could lead him to the open balcony of the castle's tower. However, to pass through the archers, he had two options: the first one was to wait until one of them left to switch with other guards, but if that had to happen, Jarro had to know their patrolling routines, which wasn't the case. The most plausible situation as they will guard the castle until dawn.

The second and risky option was to pass through their nose. If Jarro could find the slightest space for him to sneak in, that could be an opportunity which he will not let pass. After all, who was the best to find secrets? The only one in Runeterra that could break through the King of Demacia castle? But of course, like in any risky adventures, if he was caught, the adventurer will no doubt be arrested.

Jarro smiled utterly pleased with himself, like a prince that won what he desired. His attentive eyes glanced at the two archers, holding their weapons firmly as if waiting for some movement. _Let's show to his majesty who's going to be the first to invade his precious castle, shall we?_

Reaching the top of the tower, there were no doors or holes for him to infiltrate, only a closed copula with two windows upwards. Touching the texture of the copula, he noticed no failures on the structure of the tower, plain petricite stone sculptured in perfection. Jarro looked back, over his shoulders, but no raptor seemed to in the vicinity.

The adventurer looked upwards of the windows. _That structure is perfect. Just need to climb on the rock and this will be easy._ As he reached on the top of the rock, he managed to be at the top of the cupola. Sliding down upon the tiles, the adventurer could see the open windows.

Inside, there was an old man dressed in white and gold, holding big books on a secretary. A pile of candles lit his scrolls and a lot of books piled on one another to the side. Closer to the windows, there was a bed of white sheets and a side table with a bowl of water and white vases.

There were two bookshelves closer to a fireplace, where a cat was sleeping on a blue cushion. There was a basket with wood closer to the fire, and a wooden walking stick. Over the fireplace, there was a picture of a young man with a young woman, both dressed in white holding a golden sceptre.

Jarro looked at the old man that wasn't paying attention to anything else, but his papers and scrolls on the table. Aiming to the bed, he has teleported safety. The cat rolled over its long tail, as its ears twitched.

Sneaking to the door without alerting anyone, Jarro left the room. A long white corridor on both sides, and stairs forward. No guards, no archers or even servants running around. _Usually, dungeons are close to kitchens, hidden obviously, after all, who would like to know a place like that? Me! For obvious reasons._

Jarro walked downstairs until he reached to a small area. Behind the stairs, there were piles and piles of old furniture, a small cage, a small coffer and empty wooden boxes.

Opening the only door on the place, a big table with a blue cloth with golden bothers, held a vase with daisy flowers, silver plates, cups and cattery well tied up as the king will going soon for his dinner. The windows were well presented with blue curtains with golden drawings. In the centre of the room, a chandelier illuminated the table.

Behind the table on the wall, a golden sword crafted with a diamond on the centre of the weapon, with open wings. A larder closet was close to the door, showing some porcelain objects, hand mad plates with elegant but sophisticated designs. On each corner of the room, candled held illuminating the edges of the room.

Leaving the room, Jarro glanced at a prominent place. Various columns of petricite held on another like shapes of closed wings, forming the castle's copula. Two statues of soldiers holding its sword served as the entrance to the giant white stairs. Every two doors in the hallway, candles would illuminate a corridor welcoming any visitor to sit on the luxurious benches.

Tiptoeing to the other corridor, the adventurer could hear the servants already snoring loudly, like an orchestra in a concert, in different doors. A stench of mixed spices floated in the air, reminding Jarro of distant and exotic landscapes like Ixtal and Ionia. After peeking into room after room, the adventurer got inside of a small area.

At first, everything seemed at ordinary. Gardening tools, old kitchen catering, brooms and towels. However, at any mortal eye, this small detail will escape but not from Jarro. As he pushed stuff aside there it was. The entrance for the beginning of his glory and fame.

Lockpicking a trapdoor, the adventurer walked downstairs, as his gauntlet's gem illuminated the passage faintly ahead.

Long downstairs lead him to a small room with only a stair and two torches at both sides of the rocky, cold walls. As he opened the door, sounds of chains clanked around, behind wooden doors closer in no small bar metal door at the end of the room.

On the walls, there were chains and torches on each column in the room. Candles, some instruments of metal and wood which Jarro guessed to be for torture, and a small chair where a guard was sleeping aside with an iron chair.

_Let's keep it low._ Sneaking around the area the adventurer searched for a lever with no success. Approaching to the guard, there it was a ring with keys on his belt. _This should be easy_. Jarro moved his hand to grab the ring, as his fingers touched it, the guard couched moving his hands to his belt.

Finger by finger Jarro opened guard's hand moving to his chest armour. Grabbing a dagger on the table, he ripped the guard's belt, grabbing the ring with keys.

As the adventurer opened the massive door, **'Can't you feel it, kid?'** Ne'Zuk said with a thrill in his voice, like a madman that escaped the asylum.

As the Voice had spoken, Jarro's gauntlet trembled. 'Yes! This was the sign we were looking for!'

The place was surrounded by chains, spider webs as the site was abandoned for decades. A smell of mold invaded the air, suffocating the area. On copula shapes on some corners of the place, candles illuminated the intersection faintly.

Jarro moved for both sides to see which one the gem would react. As the gem illuminated the right path, the adventurer's gauntlet trembled, he turned and kept walking. As it seemed to be an abandoned place, suddenly the area turned macabrely alive. Blood was a manifestation of a mixture of death and life.

For those alive, it was a picture of suffering, agony and extreme pain. Jarro looked at an old man. He sat on the floor next to another of long, oily hair. On their massacred white skin with non-healed red lines, flies flew around their red bubbles like it was made of honey. A mouse skittered around their dirty feet, sniffing for food. Their bloody messed hands were tied on prison ball and chain legs.

The cell was a place for only those with a strong stomach. In the air there was a mixture of strong unpleasant and foul smell, the adventurer could hear flies dancing in the corners as they laid to feast themselves on something soft but dark.

Jarro closed his mouth as his belly in a violent fight of disgust and repulsion, messed his insides with extreme cruelty. Something inside was pushing his stomach throughout like a primitive instinct.

'Argh…' Jarro groaned weakly.

**'Ahhhh! This place!'** Ne'Zuk said utter delight. **'Such misery! The agony in their souls! Ahhh… yes! The pain! THE PAIN!'** He screamed ecstasy. **'The sound of their screams, singing the symphony of their punishment!'**

'Damn!' Jarro turned his face in the hope the discomfort could vanish. 'Are you…really enjoying this? Like… really?'

**'This place reminds me of home, boy.'** The Voice said in a longing tone. **'Their screams to the emperor for their wretched souls for mercy! Ah! How beautiful was that?'**

'Never thought you enjoyed diseases.' Jarro looked to a corner of rusty chains in a despaired attempt to forget the men in the prison. 'Your screams were like you were fornicating your partner.'

**'Ah… innocence is bliss.'** Ne'Zuk's voice was like a sweet deep hissing coming from a demon. **'Say boy… would you kindly allow me to describe how we used to whip—'**

'No thanks—'

**'The sharp blade ripping in their flesh, penetrating deeply on their skin. Eating their body alive—'**

'Ne' Zuk, stop!'

**'After with a scorching iron grabbing a tongue, pulling and pulling and pulling—'**

'Not helping. Stop, I mean it!

**'With a needle, ripping off their bubbles. Blood ran. Over their bodies like a river. The rats love their taste—'**

'Stop it!' Jarro's voice got weaker, as his stomach was containing the disgust of the violent imagery in his mind.

**'And when we feed them with their own flesh! Their frown of agony, their eyes wildly open like an owl, and my favourite part,' **Ne' Zuk's voice echoed on the adventurer's mind with pure malice. **'Their broken body, exhausted, annihilated!'**

Jarro's stomach couldn't take much longer. Biting his lips longer than needed, the same feeling of disgust and repugnance has finally come to an end. An uncontrollable force pushed his insides, roughly like hands squeezing his organs.

'Hm…hm…' Jarro held his mouth, walking to a corner. 'Arghhhh!'

It exploded. Finally, no longer he could hold inside. A yellowish liquid yet greenish and little brownish came out of his mouth. It's all there, all the ingredients he had swallowed this night, the small chewed pieces of ham and cheese. The small sliced pieces of seeds of the bread.

Jarro felt a wet sensation of filth accumulating inside of his mouth. With his empty stomach and a constant feeling of dirt. _Wipes? Wipes?_ In a desperate instinct, he looked around.

**'Aha!'** Ne' Zuk laughed like a madman. **'So fun to watch your reaction, kid. You should have seen your face!'**

No luck. Everywhere it was dirty, smelly, violent and macabre. Feeling his gauntlet shaking tremendously, Jarro looked at a cell. A towel was on the iron bars, bloody and filthy, with a sticky liquid which the adventure didn't desire to know what. But by the fishy smell, he could guess it.

With no choice available, the adventurer looked to his jacket; then to the dirty, smelly towel again. _This was expensive! Can't believe I will have to wipe my mouth with this._ Grabbing a little of his jacket, Jarro wiped his mouth. _Disgusting! _His lips were dry as a desert from Shurima, he checked in the small pockets on his belt only to find that he didn't bring his flask of water.

**'Well… just go inside.'** Ne'Zuk said in a withering tone. **'Do the honours, boy.'**

'Are you joking? In this… this… err… place?' Jarro took a deep breath. 'Let me just— check something first.

Around Jarro grabbed little chains. His fingers trembled in a mixture of horror and revolt, by just the thought that what could be inside of the cell. The same he had witnessed? Or, far worse? Deep inside, he wished that could just be a skeleton of a prisoner or a dead corpse.

Moving forward, slowly, he moved past the chains to touch the iron bars. Successfully the chains penetrated the darkness. However, nothing or someone came out. As he approached, like a lion attacking a pray, hands from the dark tried to grab him.

'Crap!' Jarro felt on the ground.

'Oh, hello there, pretty boy.'

From the darkness, skinny fleshy fingers grabbed the bars. The nails were surrounded by something brownish and smelly. The same fishy sticky smell came from the point of the prisoner's fingers like he had spent a night with a prostitute.

'Why the chains? Do you want to play? Is pain your kink?' The prisoner asked.

Jarro throat felt a compulsion to throw his stomach up, as his mouth was enduring all filth of the prison_. It is not my business but… what is this man doing in his cell? Like… is he really?_

'Not much for a talk? Better.' The prisoner said with such pleasure, the adventure could swear he heard the man moaning. 'I prefer them silent, especially virgins.'

**'Ah, kid. Those types of prisoners.'** Ne'Zuk said, utter amused**. 'They are the best ones. We had the perfect punishment for them.'**

Jarro twitched his lips in horror and shock as the prisoner's fingers tried to reach him with no success. But just the image of the prison, the condition the man was in even if he was a criminal, that was enough to the adventurer be grossed out.

'Come closer, pretty one.' The prisoner waved his hands at the adventurer to approach.

'No, thanks.' Jarro finally answered, taking a nervous breath. 'This spot is perfect for me.'

'That's sad.' The prisoner's fingers disappeared in the dark. 'But you are here for a reason, isn't it?'

Although Jarro was trying to regain his confident posture. 'That's right.' Yet he couldn't stop but feeling nervous. 'You see… inside of your cell, there's… something that interests me.'

'Is it now?' The prisoner said. 'And what that could be?'

'Huh…' Jarro chuckled more in an attempt to hide his discomfort. 'That's something that even your eyes can't imagine to exist.'

'Eheh… you are my type.' The prisoner's voice became deep and hoarsely trying to seduce the adventurer. 'We can come to an agreement.'

Jarro forced a smile. 'That's fine. What do you suggest?' Despite his stomach being in a turmoil of nausea.

'Simple,' the prisoner's voice faded gently. 'You free me from this place, and as a reward, you will have what you desire.' In the dark, the adventurer could hear the chains from the prisoner's feet shaking. 'What do you say, pretty one?'

_This is novel! Demacians by nature, don't lie._ The prisoner's tone was sweet and gentle, like an angel from the heavens. Although, despite the tenderness and warmth in his voice, it also dripped with poison and backstabbing intentions.

Jarro wished this moment could be like his adventures. Forgotten places with magic and danger, and mysterious and secret places that would be hidden from everyone's eyes.

Jarro was extremely nervous, he could tell by his body shuddering from his toes to his hairlines. His fingers were sweating like he was dealing with a dreadful warlord that will destroy everything. His voice... he wanted to shout something, but it was stuck as if many hands were squeezing his throat, making him unable to utter a word.

However, despite this intense and eerie feeling coming from the prisoner, Jarro couldn't allow losing what will become his. He must have the location of the rest of the power to his gauntlet.

This was a high risk. The adventurer suspected that the prisoner will try something funny as he had called him 'pretty boy', 'pretty one' and going further saying that 'he preferred virgins.' The thought of being touched by his slim hands and fingers coated in a sticky fluid, made Jarro feel a wave of pure disgust running through his empty stomach.

However, Jarro was determined to take the risk. If he let this glorious moment slip, all else that he had done will be in vain. His parents, out there will never want to see him again. And he could always count on his gauntlet and his agility, surely the prisoner will not have enough energy to grab him.

That comfort thought brought a pompous smile on his lips. 'Of course. That's reasonable. You will have at your way.' Jarro whirled the ring with the keys on his fingers.

'Ehehe…' The prisoner's tone became dark and excited, like a personal stalker. 'Yes, yes. You will not regret it.'

Jarro threw the ring keys to the dark prison. Stepping back, the adventurer watched the prison door opening, as he stood his arm with the gauntlet. As the figure approached, the prisoner was revealed.

A slim, middle-aged man, with his pale skin, socked in towards his bones, as if he hadn't had a proper meal for decades. The prisoner stared wildly at Jarro, his eyes burning with uncontrollable desire. His hands were over him in an obsessive, and possessive way. Around the prisoner's eyes were marks of lack of sleep, but also a purple mark as if his eye has been hit thousands of times in a row.

The prisoner smiled like an insane man. His teeth were another sign of the lack of care. Broken, dirty, or no teeth at all in his mouth's gum. His bones from his chest contrasted well with his ripped clothes. On his wrists and legs were marks of the chains.

'Oh? Playing hard to get?' The prisoner approached. 'You are indeed my type, pretty boy,' standing his hands ready to grab the adventurer.

Despite the prisoner's delicate, fragile appearance, he sprinted with his arms open like a lion capturing a prey. Jarro waited a little more for his gauntlet gem to accumulate more energy. The prisoner got closer… near the light… his greedy fingers with lust wanting to grab the adventurer.

As his eager smelly fingers desired to touch the adventurer, Jarro glanced at his gauntlet with no energy. He dodged the prisoner's attempt to grab him.

'Fire!' Jarro demanded.

**'No.'** Ne' Zuk said.

'Idiot! 'Jarro's voice faded away as if he was losing his life. 'Can't you see this disgusting pig will touch me? Like… he…' In despair, he tried to call out with the Voice with reason.

**'Not my concern.'** Ne'Zuk answered unemotionally.

'What the hell?' Jarro's body shuddered, looking at the man trying to grab him as if he were his biggest nightmare.

'Oh! Don't be sad, pretty boy.' The prisoner grinned with all his remaining teeth. 'Why so concerned? I will make you feel good, don't worry.'

Even with his body in shock, Jarro tried to move fast as he could, yet it was too late to escape the prisoner's lustful affections.

The prisoner got the adventurer hands, pushing him down without any effort as if he was pulling down a play doll. Jarro moved his legs in an attempt to push back the prisoner, yet the man was too strong to fight back. _No… not this..._ Jarro couldn't believe the situation he was in.

He felt his body weaken as the man was controlling it so well without any effort. He was the master of the adventurer's body. Trying to move his legs was a useless endeavour since the man pinned them with his own. The man touched Jarro's face like a lover that had missed his loved one for so long.

Jarro felt the sticky liquid from the man's fingers. It was cold and slippery. The sensation of the prisoner's nails craving his skin made the adventurer twitching his lips harder. Disgusted he only desired to vomiting this sensation of revulsion.

'Yes, you are pretty.' The man grinned.

'Let me go.' Jarro tried to move the rest of his body with no success. 'What makes you think that I am your property?'

The man didn't hesitate that much to show his affections. As the prisoner raised the adventurer's legs, he tried to reach his belt; yet Jarro moved his waist to dodge the man's lustful greedy hands.

Then the man tried to push up Jarro's shirt. The adventurer's chest was exposed at the man's mercy. The prisoner's fingers were cold like ice and slippery like gel, sliding up to reach to the adventurer's nipples. Yet he felt Jarro's boot kicking on his stomach.

Not appreciating the gesture towards his passion, the man punched Jarro's stomach hard. Groaning in severe pain, the adventured rolled over the ground weakly. _No! You will not—_

The man was determined more than ever to have the adventurer only to himself. Grabbing Jarro's legs the prisoner unbuttoned the adventure's belt, then zipping down the trousers. Taking off his belt from the waist, the prisoner grinned utterly satisfied that the adventurer will finally be his lover. At that moment Jarro remembered his fight with Januk.

The pirate had kicked the adventurer's ribs hard. The pain and agony Jarro felt were like a thousand warriors had tortured him in prison without mercy. It was a fight with no light ahead. Despite the pirate wasn't interested to take Jarro's body, the adventurer was in grave danger, and he will die, yet what saved him was indeed his gauntlet and something else.

**'Can't believe you will let this miserable pervert touch you.'** Ne'Zuk said more in a disappointed tone than concerning one.

_Anger is a __wonderful__arcane motivator. Use it or lose it._ Jarro felt his heart bursting fire with rage like he was possessed of an evil spirit. He glared at the man that was ready to take off his pants to begin his action.

'Why are you violent?' Jarro asked as the man stopped.

'Am I?' The man twitched his lips pathetically in confusion.

'Of course, you are.' Jarro said more in a way to distract the man. 'Why can't you be more… err… gentle?'

'Oh, if that's the problem—' However instead of stopping, the prisoner took the adventurer's suggestion as to be softer on his manners.

'But…' Jarro took a deep breath. _Disgusting! So… argh!_ He twitched his lips as if he had drunk raw milk. 'Give me your hand.'

The man grinned satisfied by the adventurer's suggestion like finally, his fantasy will become true. 'Will you suck my hand like a cock?'

Jarro forced a smile on his face. 'Yes! That's the idea!'

The man didn't wait much to show how eager he was along with the suggestion. He moved to Jarro's lips his hands. The smell coming from it was like the prisoner had a nonstop rampage of sex. That made Jarro's stomach repulsive at so many levels, yet if he wanted to escape, he had to do it.

Taking a deep breath, Jarro held the man's hand. Firmly, and ready the adventurer bit the prisoner's hand like a vampire sucking his victim's blood. Penetrating the man's skin, the adventurer felt sick on his stomach, like his insides were going to make him stay in bed for the rest of the life.

'Arghhh!' The prisoner screamed in pain. 'You tricked me!'

Jarro kept biting so hard as the man tried to move to his face, in exchange to feel the adventurer's bit on his hand even harder. With no more energy left, the man moved violently as his skin ripped off from his hand.

Tossing aside the prisoner's skin at the ground, Jarro coughed violently many times, spiting in the ground as if his stomach was made of paper. However, not satisfied, the adventurer wiped his mouth so hard in an attempt to clean from the mess. His mouth was sore, burning inside like an open wound.

Getting up Jarro put his trousers and belt back in place.

'We will talk later.' Jarro said in a grave tone with anger. 'Ne'Zuk.' Grabbing a pair of chains nearby.

**'This is my pay for you trying to be funny.'** Ne'Zuk answered, hissing with malice. **'So next time you know what I am capable of.'**

Although despite the Voice didn't help him, for the first time, Jarro had to go to this extreme action. He always preferred to not be noticeable and leave the place as soon as he got what he wanted. But right now, a life had to be taken.

The man stared at him with his twitched, disappointed lips as if the adventurer had cheated on him with someone else. At that moment, Jarro felt that his heart was empty as the void, storing nothing but anger. As if he was possessed from an invisible identity that was controlling his emotions.

'You will pay.' He walked towards the prisoner. 'For your so-called love.'

Like an obsessive jealous lover, the man plunged towards the adventurer to catch him on his hands, yet Jarro dodged and moved the strings to the man's feet. He fell on the ground holding his legs.

**'Kill him.'** Ne'Zuk said. **'When my powers will not be available, you have to rely on your rage, boy. You have done this before. It's not going to be a big deal.'**

The prisoner raised his hands in a desperate attempt to have his last grasp of life. However, the adventurer stomped it the hand with his boot violently. The man screamed with agony as voices from other cells manifested in enthusiasm, screaming energetically, 'Kill him! Kill him!'

'It seems we have an audience.' Jarro raised the chains. 'This for your attempt to make me your property.' The metal clawed the man's fragile body.

The prisoner's screamed excruciatingly holding his body like a terrified abused child. Without mercy, Jarro hurt the man's body, ignoring his screams. 'This for your own stupidity.'

Clearly, the man wouldn't last long. On his body, new scars started to rip the skin like knives craving on the surface. With bloody arms, legs and the rest of his body, the prisoner gave a last look at the adventurer that was holding the chains.

'You disgusting, filthy pig!' Jarro gave him another violent strike.

The man wanted to speak, but his mouth was shot by the chains on his face. With no more life left the prisoner tried to move his body towards his cell. However, Jarro stopped him by another beat. And it was at that time that everything went silent.

The prisoner no longer moved his hand. His head lifeless, rolled over his eyes, as a mouse sniffed his mouth. With a little anger inside, Jarro spat on the prisoner's corpse, kicking the man hard as much as he could.

'Die!' Jarro screamed angrily as the voices in the cells screamed of his victory. 'Rot in the abyss like a sick pig you are.'

After kicking the lifeless man after a while, the adventurer fell on the ground. Watching the man dying was something he never witnessed before.

In his adventures he never had to deal with these situations, after all, those who would help him out, will in many cases die without noticing that Jarro had vanished from their sight.

Jarro took a deep breath, not taking his eyes of the dead man. _Stay where you are. _He left his arms like feather fall on the ground. _You deserved it every second of it._

**'Ahahaha! This is so fun!'** Ne'Zuk laughed manically. **'Say, boy, how was your date?'**

'You are seriously asking me to give you to the Demacian authorities.' Jarro took a deep breath, grabbing a little of his courage to go inside of the cell.

**'You wouldn't—'**

'Dare?' Jarro cut it the Voice. 'If you do this one more time, I swear that you will be dust on the next day in.'

For a while, it was silent as if the Voice had vanished from the adventurer mind like a calm voice was replaced instead. Then Ne' Zuk said. **'You should be proud kid.'**

'Proud?' Jarro said scratchy. 'How do you expect me to be proud when you didn't help me? I could have been raped by that dirty pig and you couldn't care less about me.'

**What you want to say is that if you were dumb that rapist could had got you.'**

'Thankfully that didn't happen.'

**'****And do you know why?'**

'Tsk… is that even a question? Because I am smart, and that disgusting pig will never touch me in the first place.'

**'****See? One more reason for you to be proud. You outsmarted him.' **For a moment silence occupied the place, until Ne'Zuk said. **'Every time you use my power, you are trusted it. And so far, kid, you are the best mage out there. I like you.'**

Jarro was bewildered by the Voice's actions. During all these years with him, Jarro knew that Ne'Zuk was once a powerful emperor nonetheless. And during all that time he showed nothing but malice and anger for whatever the adventurer had done. Yet right now it was like Ne' Zuk was a different person, or Jarro was speaking with his brother if the Voice had any.

However, the adventurer couldn't help but to feel special, as if Ne'Zuk had chosen him to use his weapon. On that the Voice was right. Jarro was the only one who deserved the weapon to be on his possession. Nobody was worthy of that privilege but him.

**'Say what you will, but today you did well.'** Ne'Zuk said calmly like the waves of the ocean. **'Why don't you make more decisions like that? You aren't bound to anyone but yourself.'**

_Let's hope he doesn't suffer from a double personality disorder. That would be troublesome but funny to mock him._ 'You have a point, though.' Jarro said more in a way to move to another subject, despite how much he was enjoying to be glorified by the Voice.

**'Don't think next time, kid.'** Ne'Zuk advised the adventurer. **'You are the best mage.'**

'But of course, I am.' Ezreal got up slowly.

Suddenly more noises came from the cells. Other prisoners grabbing the iron bars, shaking violently like wild beasts to get free. Others simply shouted for help or tried to ask for someone. Jarro stared at the open cell.

He needed to get inside, and by the looks of the other cells, this one will not be prettiest of all. Trying to find a way out will be complicated since by his experience dungeons are hard to get out once you are inside. There was only one choice.

_Well, chaos is useful, for distraction, of course._ With this idea the adventurer could leave the place, while the guards will be busy with the prisoners, however, returning to that prison implied Jarro grabbing the key.

The adventurer looked to his hand with the gauntlet. 'This is so bad.'

**'Kid! You are not going to grab the keys with that hand.'** Ne'Zuk demanded furiously.

'Do you really think we have a choice?' Jarro protested, glancing at the open cell, as his lisp twisted with disgust. 'Everywhere is dirty—'

**'Not my problem. You have the other hand. Or… how about you pay a visit to that sleepy guard, and grab some cloth from him?'** Ne'Zuk suggested.

'That was already on my mind.' Jarro took a deep breath looking to his hand. 'But by at this point, he must have awakened several times because of the chains. Believe me.'

Ne'Zuk took a deep breath. **'Isn't there—'**

_My time to mock this idiot. _'No. And to be honest, you will love this.' Jarro grinned. 'He was full of diseases, which apparently is your thing—'

**'Kid!'**

'Come now.' Jarro patted the gauntlet like he was touching a cat. 'Everything is going to be fine. I will clean you after all this mess is made. Deal?'

Ne'Zuk made moments of silence. **'Fine, fine,'** he answered, frustrated. **'Just finish this fast.'**

As Jarro approached to the open prison, a strong stench of feces and urine came to his senses. His stomach began to whirling tidily, as his mind devoured the disgusting scenario.

His eyes were the witnesses of the intense dance of the macabre. The walls were painted with red, and the same sticky translucid liquid that Jarro had seen on the prisoner's nails. There were traces of the prisoner's everywhere, even on the rusty chains. _Argh! Disgusting pig!_

Jarro covered his nose, as his boots felt the softness on the ground, yet smelly. As he searched on the mess, the ring keys captured his attention, stuck inside of a poo. The adventurer had come this far, giving up now would be a waste; but at the same time, the smell, the horrifying scene was something that could be made him leave the dungeon.

Jarro took a deep breath. _My fame! My glory! This will not be recorded in my journal!_ Rising his hand with the gauntlet, the adventurer dove with bravado, like a valiant knight. He could fell it. The ring and the keys. Grabbing them with his fingers, his mouth twitched harshly by the strong smell.

'Are you going to free us?' A male voice echoed nearby.

'Yes.' Jarro looked to the next prison. 'These are the keys.' Approaching to voice's location.

'Well then, give it to me.' Dirty bloody hands opened its fingers widely, like a desperate drug-addicted.

_Perfect_. 'Not so fast.' Jarro held the ring. 'What will you give to me in return?'

'You seemed very interested in that prison, whatever that is. So that's your reward.' The voice said. 'Is that enough?'

'Almost there.' Jarro stared at the prisoner's bloody hands full of dirt and some fur. 'All you have to do is free the others, not… like those like that guy.' He pointed to the dead prisoner.

'We don't like them, believe me.' Jarro could hear the young man's teeth ripping apart what seemed to be meat. Chewing slowly with all his teeth wolfed down.

'So, do you agree with my terms?' Jarro asked.

'One last thing.' The young prisoner kept devouring his meal. 'Is the guard at the entrance—'

'Sleeping like a child.' Jarro said victoriously.

'Finally!' The young's man voice transformed instantly to a pleased one. 'That son of a bloody whore will taste my blade!'

**'Ahhh kid! Those ones were interesting.'** Ne'Zuk said. **'Cutting their hands was my favourite hobby. Whipping their backs to—'**

'He's all yours.' Jarro said to the prisoner, ignoring the Voice. 'But first, you must free the others.'

'Yes… that is all good and pretty.' The young man chewed more of his food. 'But wouldn't the other guards start a rampage?'

'That's the fun part you see?' Crossing his arms, Jarro composed himself like a prince negotiating an important event. 'If you free the majority here, you will be alive for sure. Of course, death is also guaranteed. But… surely you will not leave that guard best you, right?'

'Ehehe…' The young man laughed with malice. 'No, no, no. He will feel my hands, struggling him, breaking his bones, cut his tongue until his insides bleed!' On that instant, Jarro watched a dead mouse being thrown out of the cell. 'What can I call you?'

**'This guy seems reasonable to deal with. Take him with us. He will be useful.'**

'Jarro.'

'Ah! We know you, Jarro. So, give me the keys to my freedom.'

'Sure, just be careful because—'

'Well, it came from his cell. Nothing can be done about it.' The young man's fingers gestured to grab the keys.

_It's safe. He's only interesting killing that guard._ 'Well, then, enjoy your freedom.' Jarro gave the young prisoner the keys.

From the cell came a lad at the same age as Jarro. Small by structure, yet it wasn't his lack of nutrition, he could have a reliable and robust constitution. His eyes were aggressive and lack of emotion like a predator. His black like coal eyes highlighted with scars on his lips. A deep one like he had cut his lips with a sharp knife, making a huge smile.

Jarro looked at the assassin walking to another cell, opening the door. 'Don't worry,' he said, smiling. 'You will not die. You don't make my type of victim, so rest at ease.'

Watching the prisoner's getting free was something that wasn't on Jarro's plans, however it will serve for his propose. Little by little, the celldoors opened. The adventurer could witness them looking at each other, perplexed by the situation for being so easy.

Taking a deep breath, Jarro covered his nose, returning to the smelly disgusting cell. His gauntlet shook violently as Shuriman symbols shinned intensively absolving its magic, creating a hole.

Guided by the gauntlet's gem light, Jarro reached a rocky room. Nothing inside but only a strange door, with cravings of one surface but seemed double in shape of hands. As gem's light touched the rock, shinning symbols made a phrase.

'Shine like the sun, and your reward shall be justice.' Jarro translated the symbols.

**'Well done boy.'** Ne'Zuk said monotonously.

'Ehehe, this is easy. Told you.' Jarro walked to the door.

_Finally! After all this— unlikely place, the map will be in my hands!_ The gem was shining as the inscriptions were saying, like the sun, the door trembled by the presence of such intensively magic. Jarro imagined himself laying his hand with the magical glove on the carving. However, it was dirty enough for him to not consider that possibility.

He laid the clean hand first, then ahead of the other one not to close. Despite the gem's gauntlet shinned enough, the door didn't budge. Jarro knew his gauntlet was the solution, and even that wasn't enough for the door to react. There was only one solution left.

He needed an extra person, but how could he ask for help? Proposing to a stranger will be awkward enough. The only one who did without questioning was Taric, the strange Demacian Knight. And after what the adventurer had done, the Knight wasn't happy.

But deep inside the adventurer couldn't give up! He didn't want to ask anyone else for help, after all, they will suspect for sure someone was inside of the castle, the responsible for the free the prisoners.

Now the explorer has another problem to face. In the name of his glory and his fame, Jarro will have to convince Taric to be with him… again. After a good bath and disinfection of course.


End file.
